Constant Trouble
by Tare-Bear
Summary: What if Hawke... wasnt really Hawke? But instead a tired Grey Warden and Hero of Fereldan, searching for a new way to live. A female mage broken hearted by King Alistair and unable to stand by as he marries goes in search of her own life. Changes her name, gets new friends, and becomes a new legend.
1. A Painful Decision

_**Prologue**_

"_Still friends, right?" _

_The words came out so breathlessly, they were hardly a whisper. Yet I knew I couldn't have said it any louder. My chest felt inundated with cold water, like a horde of Darkspawn stood a top it. My heart was in an impossible and hopeless race against my speeding pulse._

"_Of course." He says, and his stiff voice does nothing to soothe my nerves._

_My eyes lift from the floor to see a feeble smile framing his lips. Lips I had once kissed... but never again. Not now, not after the Archdemon lays dead and Fereldan stands king-less. _

_Alistair has a duty, a privilege I have given to him; because I knew he could do it. _

_How was I to know it would only come back and lash me in the face?_

_I am a mage; I cannot stand beside him. I had not planned on loving him, I had not thought that I would feel something like this.. this heart wrenching need to hold him. To have a man make feel whole and that almost unresistable want to kiss his lips... _

_I could push him. I could crumble what little resistance he upholds, the miniscule strength he has put forth for my own benefit, and I can have him take me as a mistress._

_But I would not. I will not share him, and I could never force such a thing. I did not want to be the whore behind the woman who would claim the title 'wife' or 'queen'. I wouldn't stoop to such shame._

_The thoughts, dampen my fighting rush for tomorrow's war. My eyes slid to the stone wall on our right. "Good." I say, my fingers tugging at the sleeve of my robes._

_"I will always love you." He whispers, and I feel him stir, maybe to move towards me, but he controls the impulse and I look to his face just as he turns his away._

_My heart strings tug slight, taking in the sadness that etches into the planes of his handsome features. _

_"And I, you." I retort, softly, feeling the war raging in my chest just knowing it is as painful to him as it's for me. _

_He turns away now, my lungs still struggling to expand, and I close my eyes from the sight. I listen to the clanking of his metal boots against the floor until the click of the door reaches my ears and I know... he is gone._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 1- "A Painful Decision"<strong>_

"So, Tera, how does one feel being second in command here in Denerim?" Leliana teased, nudging my shoulder.

I looked over at her, raising my gaze from the wooden table top. Only_ slightly _amused. "It's not so bad."

"Oh?" She says, raising an eyebrow. She leaned forward, an elbow supporting itself on the dining array placed in front of us. She props her face up against her hand, she turned towards mine, and her blue eyes are surveying my face with the new angle. "You look so gloomy lately, ever since I arrived back into town."

I give her an earnest smile. "Don't be silly, Leliana. It is always a pleasure to have you around again. And everyone else for that matter." Her face brightens immediately, but I make a face as my eyes slid to Oghren across the room, who is already hopelessly drunk. "Except maybe him, _he_ could do with a few more manners."

Leliana gives Oghren a small laugh. "Oh! He is just getting into the celebration mood!" She exclaims, grinning at me and leaning closer- a strand of red hair slipping in front of her eyes. "That's why we all came back, is it not?"

There is a knowing a gleam in her blue eyes.

I suddenly can't quite meet her gaze. I turn away, surveying the feasting hall. Everyone _had_ come back- over the course of last week; dropping all those personal and business-like things they had been up to over the last month since the Archdemon's death.

I missed them more than I thought; now that I look across the room.

Zevran was in the corner, charming every noble lady and maid in the entire castle. His golden hair shined in the candle light, his tattoo's dark and mysterious in the atmosphere. His tan skin was appealing, but I turned my gaze away. Sten was seated a few paces to the left. I had been completely floored when he showed up at the door step of the palace. He sat himself with the more adventurous lads of the kingdom. His group of missionary Qunari's that had accompanied him here were telling the boys tales of their land and religion.

Wayne sat with those few mages I've had taken from the tower. It was a boon I had asked of.. our new king. They were mostly old childhood friends and a few mentors who had trained me before I was recruited.

Shale amused himself watching the drunken humans, which surrounded Oghren.

Of course though, Morrigan was absent.

She wouldn't have come even if she could, I'm betting. Unless she wanted to rub this in my face.

Because Maker knows I need more humiliation added to my broken heart.

Leliana sat back then, as she had no doubt realized pushing me to my point wasn't a good plan. Considering what a temper I tend to have and the past few days where it has been unexpectedly exploited and snapping.

I was argumentative lately, and I've been snarling at anyone who turned their eyes in my direction; especially Alistair.

I can't help it. I just couldn't believe he is putting me through this in the first place and then inviting all our friends too. It was so selfish of me to blame him when I knew it was on me. I had forced him to this position, I had pushed and supported his uprising and yet- I resented him for it.

Though I'm pretty sure I hated myself more then him, I just liked to take it out on those around rather then resorting to other drastic things.

I couldn't blame anyone but myself for the wedding that would be happening tomorrow

I cringe on the outside, even thinking of it. This had been a event in my head since the time me and my companions had been fighting our way through Orzamar. It was what kept me going, it had – for a time – kept my fierce temper under control and made me almost as giddy as a child. Too bad the fantasy had been long ago murdered on this path I've taken as my life.

My hand instantly reach out for my goblet. When you're sitting in this noisy place, trying to ignore the glaring mistakes of your past- a little liquid courage is needed.

Just in case my mind decided to take an even longer walk in memory lane I took long draught of the this 'liquid courage'.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Leliana shake her head. I avert my face from her direction; I do not need to hear what she has to add to my already impending self hate.

When half of the goblet is empty I set the glass back against the wood, but my eyes slid upwards. I suppose I meant to be discreet, but I failed. They instant zoned in towards the head of the hall.

Alistair sits there, his golden blonde hair tussled as ever. With the lanterns brighter up towards the front rather then in my darker corner, I could make out the reddish undertones in it. Those swoon worthy blue eyes of his are the brightest I have ever seen them... in such a very long time. There is a grin splitting his face in half as he looks down at his bride; a human noble. Kina is her name and she is by far the prettiest girl in all of Fereldan, and that only makes it worse.

Her cheeks are flushed a deep red against the tan skin of hers, something I do not possess, for mine is like porcelain it is so pale. Her eyes are a shimmering green, easy to get lost in. While mine are only a bright blue, about as captivating as a thrashing and stormy sea.

I couldn't help, but compare myself to her. She is living the life I had longed for. Kina is taking my place as Alistair's wife and as the queen.

Her hair is a glorious blonde, pulled back in an elaborate style. She is sitting tall and her straight shoulders are proud; she is nothing less then a queen.

My legs are propped up on the bench opposite mine, under the table, and my shoulders are hunched forward in defense. My hair is messy, haphazardly twisted into a side braid, hardly holding a golden hew within its bright auburn locks.

She is full figured, her bosoms all a man can desire. I am petite, having spent all my days running across Fereldan, carrying overflowing packs, covered in heavy armor a sheen of sweat laying across my flesh, and fighting my way through darkspawn... while all she has done is sit around and be papered, fed glorious meals, and given pretty gems.

It wasn't fair. Why couldn't I be there, beside Alistair?

I knew a month ago I would be giving that up, and I knew I did it because I thought Alistair would be better off this way.. yet this doesn't seem to be the best option now. It just felt wrong... yet..

I couldn't be his queen, because I was a Grey Warden. They say I can't have a child with him, for the kid would be twice bred with the Darkspawn blood within them. Society wouldn't allow me take the title because I was a mage and technically I shouldn't even be out of my confinements of the Circle. Apparently mages are still feared, even though I have just spent every last piece of my will to save them and their home land.

I just didn't understand. I just couldn't stand it. I-

"Ogling Alistair still, I see."

My eyes snap to the man across the table from me and my cheeks flush a rather telling red.

"Am not!" I hiss, defense rearing to the surface almost in an instant. My expression hardens, as my minds registers Zevran's voice and his face.

He's smirking, and he slips into the bench across me and Leliana. I try not to gasp and let my surprise show when his warm and expert hands plucked my feet on that bench and sat them into his lap.

"Pending up your lust like that isn't very good, you know." He says.

His eyes have that familiar spark in them. He throws me an irresistible look, those enticing and foreign facial features of his softening tenderly for a moment. "Why not take out all that pent up passion on me for the night?" His hands expertly slip the soft, slipper-like palace shoes from my foot. Instantly his hands make to massaging my aching feet. "I can promise you, you will not even think twice about this old flame of yours, after one night with this-"

"No. I'd rather not." I deadpan, pulling my feet from his grasp, though he pauses me to slip my shoes back on.

His expression doesn't falter for confidence, but I don't miss the glance him and Leliana share. I instantly dive for the goblet of wine, but the stupid Maker devoted red head beat me to it and placed it out of my reach, both of them giving me pitiful looks.

My eyes flicker back up to Zevran and I don't have the energy to yell at him now; plus I know this was his way of offering me some sort of comfort, it is all he knows, and it was an attempt to distract my mind- at the very least.

I try not to let my eyes look back to the front of the hall, but instead, I just stare down at my lap. I couldn't really find it in myself to go and talk to anyone. Sten wouldn't amuse me, Shale and I couldn't share a laugh when watching Oghren fall over and I've already been tarnishing Leliana all evening. Now Zevran was getting in on the abuse..

_This_ is why it was worse for them to be back.

For one, I'm not being a good friend, and I'm failing to uphold any of my old cheerfulness. The second reason was worse, because as they pretended to put on smiles for Alistair's new bride - who was quite a stick in the mud - they are following me around trying to cheer me up.

It was a weak attempt and it only added more guilt onto my list of emotions to ignore.

Without looking at anyone, I push my hands up against the table top as I stand. Many people across the hall glance over to me as I do, but I only murmur a small excuse to Zevran and Leliana before I retire early for the evening.

They don't even try to stop me.

The walk to the door was long, slipping through over enthusiastic nobles and waving away concerned inquisitions. Once I'm out of the crowded and noisy hall I feel like I can breathe again.

I can only hear the silence now. The sounds of night echoed from outside, into the castle wall, as I slink down the main hall. Crickets, howling dogs, and a soft bristling wind sighing across the stones of the structure.

I was heading for my bedroom. Dim, flickering candles led my path, but it only seemed to make the stone palace gloomy. It reminded me of the Circle for a few minutes, as all I could hear were my footsteps and old childhood memories of me wondering around at night on those lower levels were brought up by this familiar echoing.

It was surprisingly empty, considering what it is usually like; I only pass a few maids on my trek to the second floor. Most of everyone was gathered for the engagement feast downstairs, in the drunken haze of a dining hall, anyway.

Once I entered my room, I felt like all night would be torture to pass. I change out of my casual clothes to more familiar and comforting clothes of my magi robes. They were a simple emerald green, the ties laces down the front of it, to the waist where a belt held it in place. The skirt of it wasn't thick and impossible to move in, but it had a slit on the right side, making it possible to avoid physical fights – which I usually don't engage in.

By the time I've changed and taken my hair from the braid, the wine's affects has worn off. I'm starting to feel the chill of night and I walk over to the fire place. I throw some wood in the dying embers, but it doesn't seem to have any effect.

I stand by it for a long while using the poker and trying to make it roar with heat, but of course I only grow impatient and I toss the metal stick aside.

I don't know how to explain it, but every since that day just a month ago when Alistair and Arl Eamon told me that I couldn't be queen because I was a mage, I felt sensitive. I'd never been so underrated because I was mage before that. I had never thought people to be so prejudice, especially the man I love! But recently, after that criticism and with Kina's normal-ness, I've been trying to do things without magic.

It was all useless though, because how long can you deny something in yourself?

Giving up, as always, I instead call forth the familiar surging energy that I can feel pulsing through my blood. I close my eyes, forming the image of a fire in my mind- as if willing it to be there. Opening them again, I can see the flames dancing over my fingers, its heat licking across my skin.

I toss it into the fireplace and watch with satisfaction as the small sparking ember turns into an inferno.

"That never ceases to amaze me." Someone murmurs behind me, from the doorway.

I resist the instinct to jump or squeak. The Hero of Fereldan shouldn't be jumpy. I keep my eyes trained on the fire, but a small piece of my heart is screaming for me to turn around.

"Alistair..." I murmur. (Of course I would recognize his voice.) "You should be downstairs.." Was it just me or had my voice dropped to a growl for a moment? "You should be enjoying the feast."

Why must he torture me like this? Coming to me. Standing in this room, with me, alone. Then using that voice! That joking, loving one that is like a soft caress to my nerves.

I hear him waltz closer to me, I waited for the familiar clanking of his armor, but I forgot that he is wearing Nobleman clothes now. It saddened me further; the reminder that this isn't like those days we had been together nearly every second of the hour.

_Maker give me strength_- as he steps closer, I draw up my eyes to look at him.

It is Alistair. If there had been _any _hope or doubt of it, that vanished as I looked him straight into his face.

He is so tempting in the light of the fire. There is no other light in my room and the window does not even let the moons ghoulish glow come sprawling across the stone. I burn to just touch his face... to cradle it between my hands, so I may press my li-

_No. Tera! Maker! Oh Andraste, give me strength. I need strength!_

I banish the thoughts as best as my memory allows. I stand straighter, my knuckles whitening as my hands ball into fist.

Alistair notices and he pauses in his approach, there is concern in his eyes now, and he decides he is close enough with two feet still laying between us. He leans into the nearby bed post, unknowingly torturing my mind. His form is lean and his muscles tense beneath the embroidered fabric of his shirt.

There was a short awkward silence where I couldn't quite draw my eyes to his face.

Finally though, he speaks. "I saw you leave and... so abruptly. I-I thought maybe something was the.."

"The matter?" I ask, my tone strenuously calm.

He nods, closing his mouth and I have an urge to hit him, but only because his stuttering reminds me of those days before we had admitted our love for each other and he was always turning into a mess in front of me.

"Nothing is the matter. I'm just dandy." I replied short and to the point. I bury the resentment and guilt, I try not to blame him but there is a burning anger in my blood- and it is so hard not to blame him. It is so hard not to rave to his face how much I hate him... not him.. but _this_.

I turn away, so her can't see my face and I look down into the fire. "Go back.." I resist the instinct to add a begging _please._

There was silence and I waited – prayed – to hear his retreating footsteps. The sound never came llike it had all those nights ago, and there was suddenly a strong hand grabbing me by the elbow.

His fingers glide upwards, running up to my shoulders; fingering the rims of my robes where there is white fur compromising with the sharp green. His fingers skim the back of my neck, they are warm and undemanding.

I could almost feel him silently pleading for me to turn back around.

_No, Tera. No- _I can't tell you who gave in first, because at the same moment my body turned, his hand turned my body to face him.

I find myself looking up into his face; it was a mixture of emotions and conflicts, but mostly pain.

"I hate this." He whispers and it is like a physical blow. I'm snapped back to the reality by this, his fingers have fallen away from my neck and I can think clearly again.

This is bad. He is getting married! I'm not his mistress and I won't be that whore.

I try to pull away, I could not handle this closeness. His sweet breath was mingling with mine and the heat of his body was reaching out to me, like a promise of comfort.

I step back, but I am met only with the wall, with the fireplace on my right and his arms suddenly propped up against the wall on both sides of me, I have no escape.

His eyes catch my frantic ones and they are so conflicted – I couldn't tell you if he would be running from the room anytime soon either – and yet they were captivating. They were just like the clear, soaring blue skies I had glimpsed when we had climbed the majestic mountain looking for the Ashes of Andraste.

I suddenly felt my panic fall away, his words from before were working themselves to the forefront of my thoughts.

"I do too." I say, agreeing with his claim. I did hate it, I hated the guilt and the endless blame game. I hated this war between my heart and brain, whether to stay or flee.

"You should be queen." He says, staring into my eyes. One of his hand raises to brush the back of his knuckles along my cheekbone. "You deserve it. I-I wish it so."

I take a shuddering breath, and shake my head. "It is far, far too late for that."

He leans closer and I cannot remember the last time he has been this close. We have always been able to control ourselves before this, why can't I do it now? Why can't he just.. maybe I didn't want him to. Maybe I wanted his strength to fail him..

Right now, I didn't feel the guilt or the regret, all I could feel was his soft touch, his sweet breath, and an intense warmth spreading through my chest. He was pushing down my walls, peeling them away easily, and I do not think his resistance will be coming along anytime soon.

"I..." He begins, and the sudden intensity in his eyes gives way to the words he wanted to say. I had to close mine from the sight of it.

"Please- _don't_." I beg, but I know it is a lost cause.

"I still love you, Tera, just as strongly as before. Kina... she is-"

I could not allow him to finish the sentence, so I pressed my lips to his.

At first it was just a soft, simple thing to stop the flow of his words, but as soon as I realized what I was doing; once _he_ noticed what I've done, all semblance of resistance – if there had been any – shattered.

His hands slid down the wall and gripped my hips, his body came crashing against mine. My own hands found their way around his neck, my fingers crawled up his scalp tangling into the thick strands of his hair.

His lips were so soft... so warm. They were bliss. They moved against mine, hard-pressed and when his tongue deepened the kiss, skimming across my bottom lips, begging for entrance, I let him.

My body ached to be closer, and I tightened my arms about his shoulders pressing myself firmly against every aspect of him. He moaned into my mouth, his hips rocked against mine once, then twice. My nerves were tingling. His leg brushed the bare skin of one of my thighs, from the slit in my robes and I felt a shiver of desire run up my spine.

It was like we were back at camp again; I could just hear the dog barking in the background. The crackling fire beside us only made it more realistic. I lost myself to this fantasy, it was a dream yet this was only a weak moment. Every dream must end though and sometimes in nightmares.

"_Ahem._"

The sound sent a thrill of terrorizing emotions through me. I tore myself away from Alistair. His hands fell away from my body. We both whirled around to the open door and I felt the guilt burning in the pit of my stomach as Arl Eamon's worn and strict face bore straight into mine from the open doorway.

Alistair looked between us and his hands were shaking slightly as one raised, running through his hair nervously. "A-Arl Eamon!" He exclaimed, and I felt pity for him.

My rushed emotions were shot dead and I tried to hide from the other ones that came over me. The guilt, the shame, and the humiliation.

I should have known better... we _both_ knew better.

"Alistair." Arl snaps, his voice harsh and instantly silencing the king. I stared at the two, for once words have failed me and an intense need to flee was eating away at me like a ravenous hunger.

Never in all my days as Hero of Fereldan have I ever felt so small, or meek as I stood here under the Arl's forbidding glare. "You two have-"

"Do not blame him." I interrupt. It comes out breathlessly, my mind was reeling for a minute as the waves of glee and lust rolled away and the worse ones came to take their places. "Please, I have been terrible these past few days. With the others.. and then... i-it's with me where the blame lies." I conclude and Alistair looks ready to speak against it, but Eamon gets to it first.

"I do not care where the blame lies." He says, and even though he is upset I can see him softening some. "This just _cannot _be happening around here. Alistair is king and he has a new queen on the way. We do not need mistresses-"

"I am not his mistress!" I object, the line hitting a particularly sensitive spot. Indignation reared its ugly head and it is not becoming of anyone.

There are rumors of me being the king's whore and I do not tolerate them. Even though this scene only makes me seem even more like it... Maker, I'm pathetic.

Arl doesn't seem to notice the sudden dispirited, hopeless look that flits across my expression. "I know you aren't, Tera, and I'd like to keep it that way, as I'm sure Kina will too."

I try to come up with a reasonable reply. "It won't. I would never. I-I... It was a weak moment only."

He gives me a hard look. "We cannot afford weak moments."

The guilt is burning through me like the magic now, they are intermixing and they slowly ebb into anger. I could hardly bare it. I had just kissed the to be married man, who is a king. I have just inspired those rumors about me, I have made Eamon's job harder and no doubt I have just broken Alistair's carefully built barricade against me.

Who was _I_ to ruin everyone's happiness?

I look up and the two seem to be having a silent conversation with their eyes. I'm dis-included and I do not wish to know what it is they both are thinking. I could guess, but it doesn't mean I wanted to know.

"Go." I say, my voice sounds hallow. They both snap their gazes to me, but I turn back to the fire. "Go, leave! _Please_."

Unlike last time, Alistair does leave. Maybe it was the please, or maybe it was the anger that made my voice shake and the sadness that had my shoulders slopping downwards. I didn't care which one, as long a I can still hear him walk out the door.

The Arl stays behind for a minute to lean into the room and murmur. "Brighten up, Warden. You are so gloomy, it gives a bad impression. I have already received messages about it. They are asking if you disapprove of the choice in queen. Let's not raise further questions... okay?"

I sneer slightly. Of course, _yes_, let's take away my right of expressing how I feel. What next? Shall I have to be the one to bless the marriage at their ceremony? Shall I sing the union song?

"Get out." I snap and I hear him sigh, the door closing behind him with a sharp snap.

I stand by the fire for hours after that. Listening to the castle settle back down and the guests returning back to their rooms. I watch the wood being devoured by the fire and just before the flame dies I toss in more fuel. I feel as though I have stared at it for so long that the impression of flickering orange and faint reddening yellows have burned themselves into my eyes.

My mind was mauling over what happened earlier, for nearly half that time. I reviewed my terrible lack of restraint, my inability to watch this wedding through and to sit by my companions of war while I do it.

The guilt is too much; I do not even think I could look the Arl or Kina in the face again. The anger and pain is overwhelming and I'm tired of this; of the want I cannot soothe.

All those days I had spent! All those careless, laughing times where me and Alistair were traveling along a dirt road. I had slunk up to his side, I had slipped my hand into his and though Morrigan made a sound of disgust and Shale pretended not to understand- I knew they could see it too. The wedding, the happiness.. the future.

A future that will never exists.

After I worked over this ancient painstaking realization, new pangs worked their way into my chest. How long can I stand back? How long will I have to watch Kina and Alistair before I break? How long until my companions leave and can no longer keep me in a state of passiveness? How long.. until another weak moment passes, and there is no Arl around to stop it..?

So I reach a decision.

I remember just after the rush it was killing the Archdemon I had claimed I wanted to travel. I recall the relief that was sweeping through me like a giddy high, I remember boasting about seeing the world.

I could do that now, couldn't I?

I can't actually go freely. They need me here, Alistair wanted me to help him command the kingdom, though not as his queen, but as his second and also I am the Commander Grey Warden. I have duties here, Noble people to take care of and land to watch.

Too bad.

Hadn't I done enough? Haven't I given them more then they already expected! I ended a Blight, they could at least give me this.

It truthfully didn't matter to me if they would give it to me, because it is what I will do either way. I can lay low for a couple years, surely. Explore new places with a different name. Somewhere my face is unrecognizable. I'll come back, after this fades. Maybe all I need is to be free of Alistair and I can learn to move on.

The plan builds easily in my mind and I scribble out a note saying exactly that; I've gone traveling, I will return soon – though soon refers too, as soon as I've forgotten what you look like – I place it across my bed linens and I pack up my supplies. I pick up my staff, and as the castle sleeps in silence, I sneak passed the guards.

Once I'm outside the castle the night is infinite around me. A cool breeze played across my face and it is refreshing from the constant heat the fire had been. As I walk out into the Denerim's streets my eyes are constantly casting upwards towards the throngs of burning silver stars. Even those bring back memories of the past year.

My hair gets tugged at in the wind and I twist it into that side braid I had been using whenever I travel. The chill of the night sneaks up my robes, but I don't shiver. It is numb to me, and I suddenly feel ten times better then I had in the castle. I feel like myself when I'm outside.

I've always hated being cooped up... since my years in the Circle of Magi. Being here was no different. Trapped within stone walls, forced to listen to the infuriating sound of my footsteps echoing back at me, and of course, forced to obey rules.

Now I've claiming back my freedom.

I smile and it's my first real smile in days. I feel my shoulders relax and the knot of emotions in my chest and stomach loosen. The further I continue down the street towards the city's gate the less the emotions haunt me.

I tighten my robe about myself and I tuck a hood around my face when I reach the gate. The guards let me slip through without a second glance.

When I'm passed it, I take a moment just to stand there.

I try to let go completely of what I'm leaving. I try to shake myself of the old status 'Hero of Fereldan' and I embrace the commoner in me.

Fereldan will be fine without me. Alistair has Kina and I need my own life now. This is not my life, this is not some fairy tale I wanted; watching some other girl get the life I have wanted.

_I _will find my own life. Far more simple and far easier then hers. Or so... I was planning it to be.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **This has been rewritten. It is post Dragon Age:Awakening, as it begins only a month after the end of Origins. NOTE: Concerning the progression of this story, I will be flipping from the present to the furture. The next chapter may confuse you, but I promise if you keep going along and reading you'll see that it'll get easier to understand; in time. Tera isn't actually my Warden, mine was a girl named Serena and she was mage also- but so different it is not even funny. (But she and Zeveran were the top, so yeah.) You will get to see EVERYONE from Dragon Age 2, except Sebastian. (Sorry, I've never played his added gameplay. I don't know him.) This story will be quite angsty, but also revolve around romance too. (TO THOSE WHO READ THE OLDER VERSION: I've not changed very much from what you knew, so don't give up on the story.) Well thanks for reading, ask questions in a PM or review, sorry for typos. Please review. -Taryn(:_


	2. Unlikely Haven

_**Chapter 2- "Unlikely Haven"**_

_**(Future)**_

* * *

><p>The rain and howling wind made it hard to think.<p>

I could hardly see through the down pour around me. The gray turmoil overhead blocked out any of the dim light that should be illuminating the streets this earlier morning.

My slim cut, leather boots sloshed through ankle deep puddles. The gray water rimmed the dirty paving stones of Dark Town. My hands were reaching up towards my face, frozen fingers and cramped knuckles firmly holding the cloak's hood around my face.

It blocked out the bitter wind and hid my identity. Though really, who would see me through this harsh tempest? Who would be _out_ in this sort of weather?

Me. That's who. The bewildered and crazy mage who didn't know which way was up and how to introduce herself. Tera Amell or Ceala Hawke?

The question was unanswerable and almost as endless as this rain.

If the path I was taking through Dark Town was not burned into my memory then I would of never been able to find my way through. I would be a gaggle of Darkspawn without an Archdemon.

When the flickering lantern began to show through the haze of blue and gray, I nearly sighed with relief. Even then the knot in my chest didn't loosen. In fact, it probably tightened. My foot immediately slid up the creaking wooden stairs that led towards the clinic.

Once I leaped from the top step, I strut through the mush, one of my arms reached forward. It was stiff, my muscles screamed in protest. I was so exhausted.

My palm fell flat against the soggy wood and heaved, the hinges screeched in object almost as loudly as my muscles had.

"Anders...?"

My hoarse voice filled the dirty little establishment. My slight plea, soaked into the walls and the straw covered floors. There was no one in here. The cots lay empty, not even a corpse to keep my company.

Rain ravished the rooftop and I tried not to let the absences of Anders get to me.

I turned back around and fought the wind to close the door. When the storm was left outside, I shrugged back my cloak then tore it from my shoulders. I tossed the sopping thing on the nearest cot, collapsing on the one next to it.

Sickness and death was the only thing I could smell. I knew he must have tried his best to clean it, though Anders wasn't much of a cleaner, yet the scent was embroidered into the very structure of this place. It was corrupted by the things that the clinic fights to cure.

When I lay down, I sagged in exhaustion. I could have nodded of into sleep if it wasn't my thoughts that kept my mind racing.

Why had I'd done it?

Why did I run from Denerim all those years ago?

_Because of the wedding_, I tell myself, _because Alistair couldn't keep the boundaries. _

I tried to blame that. I think I nearly deluded myself too, but I couldn't hide from the truth- not for long anyway.

_I couldn't stay there because I wasn't strong enough. _

Darkspawn, a crumbling circle, werewolves, warring elves, a dwarf's hierarchy, and an Archdemon- I could handle, but a broken heart?

An old anger began to sear through my blood. An unjust, misunderstood rage. It was so much dimmer then it had been all those years ago. Back then I didn't know what lay to blame for it, but now I knew. For years I hadn't, and I had falsely accused things to be the cause.

Mostly in thanks to Fenris, but I can't hold that against him now.

No. Not until I had the strength to hate him again. I was too exhausted to do anything. My body ached, my flesh was covered in goosebumps, and I could literally feel my lips turning blue.

There were no blankets on these cots and if they had I'm sure they would be soiled with blood, so I sit up, my bright blue eyes scanning the room over.

I've never really paused to examine this place. It had mostly been a place I would avoid, in the first few years of my life in Kirkwall.

The rooms lay out was mostly scattered bandage supplies, dirty cots, straw, cement floor and wooden beams. On the far side of it their was a desk overflowing with papers – no doubt Anders' work – and I scrambled to my feet, my thighs hurting, as I make towards a door just to the side of the desk.

My toes slosh in the soggy shoes, the souls of the boots were worn- just like my spirit.

I kicked them aside as the thought occurred to me and my damp robes found their way pulled over my head. I tossed them onto the chair in front of the desk when I passed. I paused only to blow out the flickering flames in the lantern; then I was in the room – it was unfamiliar to me – no less pretty then the clinic's main room, but smaller and a little bed snuggled against the corner of a wall.

There was a side table, another desk, and a dresser but I only had eyes for the dry bed with blankets and pillows. Thank the Maker! The sight nearly made me sob. My recent travels have wrung me dry.

Clad only in my dry under dressings, I slid into the bed and disregarded the fact that it was nearly morning and that it wasn't, strictly speaking, _my_ bed.

I didn't want to be here, but where else was I to go?

They had my house under watchful eyes. They put up posters in search of me. Aveline and Merrill were franticly searching High Town while Isabella and Varric were paroling Low Town. Anders, obvious wasn't watching Dark Town, but last I heard in the past four days, him and Fenris – who have never gotten along – were out together searching the Wounded Coast and Sundermout for me.

Everyone was in search for the missing Champion.

Why, you ask? Why is the Champion missing?

Well the King of Fereldan came in town four days ago. Some say he was really excited to meet the Champion.

Well she didn't want to meet him.

I couldn't.. Ceala, the Champion. She couldn't afford to meet Alistair. Because Alistair would look at her and call her 'Tera' and that.. would only get messy.

I could only imagine how betrayed Fenris and Anders would feel. How shocked Varric and Merrill would be. Aveline would know, Aveline would shake her head sadly and tell me she knew that my keeping of the false name for all these years – even after we lost Carver to the Templars and Leandra to the psychotic mage – was a bad idea.

Course it wouldn't be the first time I was discovered, not with Cullen around. But that's another story, as was mother and Carver.

Now, all I could feel was terror, for being found.

I couldn't stay out in that cave any longer. I was hiding in the one beside the elves old camp.. before, the- the.. _incident_. But I was getting tired of sleeping on the rocky ground. I kept getting awakened by nightmares because the veil to the fade was so thin up there.

I just wanted Alistair to leave. I couldn't bare to think I would see his face again. I.. I don't think I'm strong enough. I don't want my new life to come crashing down.

Alistair ended Tera's life, why does he need to poison Caela's?

I'm happy!

No, that is a lie.

I'm... content, to an extent.

Aveline is someone I can fall back on, she is a support I need- she knows who I truly am and she understands. Cullen, a friend, but only professionally; he is the one who came to me and warned me about the King's arrival. Anders – sure we started on the wrong foot – but I've turned to him now, as a distant friend who I use far too often.

Fenris.. is a whole different story. He is almost worse then Alistair. He has torn my heart from my chest, he had bemused my mind and opinions to the worst degree, and though we can still work beside each other.. and he is so handsome... Alistair was the man I've wanted to marry. He was the one who had given me that adorable lopsided grin when I was first taken from the tower, innocent and oblivious, while plopped right into the war.

And how _naive_ I had been!

I nearly moaned. I could not believe myself. My stupidity for all those months in Fereldan, in that war, and then even more recent; with Fenris.

It was one tragedy love story after another.

All I wanted was to sleep...

I tightened my fingers around the edge of the blanket, I turned to my side, tucking it all around my body. The pillow was heavy with Anders scent; cats, ink, and lerium. I've never been in his bed. I've never felt my self loving him, when really maybe I should have...

He was the only one who wouldn't judge me. (That is why I came here.) He is the one I'm not terrified of telling the truth. He is a Grey Warden that knows what it is to lose things. He is damaged, though stupid enough to make deals with a demon, I could accept that... now after these years that he has shown control. He is a mage, he understands..

My thoughts were silenced by the suddenly throb of fear that strung through my heart, as the door on the far side of the building creaked open.

The footsteps were heavy, they weren't Fenris'. Those would be clanking, because of his armor. So that ruled out Alistair, a Templar, and Aveline too. I couldn't imagine Merrill or Varric coming here in this storm, and Isabella has never stepped foot in the clinic before.

There was only one person it could be and they have paused, taking in the stream of clothing I trailed behind.

"_Caela_?"

I closed my eyes.. _maybe if I pretended to sleep_...

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><p><em><strong>AN: (Note: To those who are reading this before reading the author's note from the previous chapter, then you'll be very lost.)** I've fast forwarded pretty far, but I'll be going back- don't worry. You'll understand. But I've now got a plot! Last attempt at this story was sort of robotic and boring when following the quests. I'm hoping this is better. Anders doesn't know who Tera/Caela is for real. Fenris and her.. well you'll see later. Alistair of course will be important- Cullen's friendship and Carver's predicament.. all will be told! I promise. But I need reveiws? Please, for motivation! Thanks for reading, sorry for typos. -Taryn(:_


	3. Dragons And Deals

_**Chapter 3- "Dragons and Deals"**_

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><p>It is amazing how familiar the wilds along the Coastland are to me. Most would call it a terrible place, full of mis-manageable beasts and robbers. But hardly. There is certainly something in the air that gives you that sort of chill, though I sense it more as a connection to the fade rather than anything too spectacular.<p>

I've only met about two packs of wild dogs on my travel thus far and I am almost to my destination; the Waking Sea.

I plan on going to the Free Marches, it will be beyond difficult to find someone there that knows the whole truth of my story. They won't know exactly how I look, or had seen me on a travel to Denerim. There were so many that fled from the Blight, I will be seen as another refugee whose just come late.

I hadn't any trouble with merchants or other travelers when I was walking along the North Road, but I wonder how long it will be until they notice my absences and the note back in Denerim.

The sun was rising and I knew that they would be waking soon. I'll be expect to show sometime in the breakfast hall, but when I don't they will send a servant to my room. They will find my note, then pass the message along..

Would they look for me? I wondered, maybe Leliana or Oghren, but I doubt Sten, Shale, and Wayne would worry too much. I could not even contemplate how Alistair would react. Would he be angry? Would he try to shake it off? Would he blame me..?

I tried to shake the thoughts. I was free now, I needed to keep my mind on the present.

The morning was beautiful as I walked through the land. Tall trees towered overhead, the canopy of leaves swaying in the coastal breezes, allowing occasional flashes of hot sunlight to run along my path. I could hear bird calls some distances away and everything was still _for the moment – _sides maybe the rustling shrubbery at my feet.

The silence though, was short lived it seemed.

I think I sensed it before I heard it though. Its shrill roar shuddering through the air came only minutes after the hair on the back of my neck stood up. It shattered the delicate peace I've wrapped about myself.

I froze in my walk when I picked up on the other noises; the great violent flapping of its wings, the slight tremor that ran through the ground as it blasted the greenery with its flames.

I tilted my head back and I saw flashes of its maroon colored scales as it seemed to be circling me. How the beast spotted me through the trees is a miracle and it's not a thought I will be dwell on because as soon as I notice it swoop down once again- setting aflame to the forest just in front of my path- I swerved to the right.

I began to sprint. It was easy, I was used to quick getaways. Plus with everything I had I couldn't fight a dragon. For I _alone_... could not defeat this creature.

I tried to stay within the thickened and close growing trees, but it was no use as I was quickly winded and the dragon continued to follow my trek without difficulty of any kind.

It didn't seem quite hooked on the idea of killing me just yet; it just kept persistently cutting off my access to the north with flames and burning greenery.

I continue west, but not for long.

"Fool!" Someone spat as I nearly ran into a clearing only a few yard in front of me. Instead of letting me run right into plain sight a hand shot out from behind a tree and their fingers thread under the fur on my robe- clasping onto my shoulder.

He hauls me away and I'm nearly lifted completely off the ground with the action.

I tear my eyes from the path and I look up into the face of the man who had just saved me from encountering the dragon. He is a whole head taller than me, with amber eyes that glare shrewdly into mine. I blink back, uncertain for a moment; panting and reeling with surprise for the dragon and this traveler. Well he certainly smelt like a traveler, with dirt marring his clothes and the muck of sweat heavy in the air around me, the sweat beading from the edge of his black hair.

I wrinkle my nose in response and I ripped my shoulder from his grasp. I wanted to reach for my staff, but then I notice the three others around us.

There is an elderly woman with gray hair and matching eyes to the boy. She holds tightly to a younger one, maybe even younger than me and she _too_ has the amber light for sight. Her hair had a browner hue in its blackness though and I did not neglect to notice the staff she had gripped in her hands.

The last one could in no way be related to the other group; she was burly and muscular. She was holding both a shield and sword and there was something about her tight jaw and slightly long nose that made her freckles and green eyes seem hard and law bidding.

Great, law enforcement. _Just_ what I need at the moment.

The boy had all, but forgotten me now as he turned back to peer out of the vegetation around us. I could hear the dragon has landed- as well as felt it. It must be waiting for us in the field.

"You are a mage." The burly woman remarks, her face strained, as if she was trying not to judge me in this dire moment. She nods tightly to the staff perched on my back.

I know they cannot see much of my face, since I have kept my hood on. Maybe a flash of my braid, but nothing more. I'm unmistakably female by my size and the way my cloak hugs my robes with curves underneath. Besides much else I do not think they could know me; maybe they have never seen the Hero of Fereldan before.

I lift a hand at first slowly, but then as another roar from the beast breaks through the sky I toss it back without a care. No one reacts- not too terribly- the boy glances back and the apostate gives me an immensely curious look, while both the older women raise an eyebrow.

"I am." I snap, in response to the red head.

I suddenly look to the boy again and I take note the the weapon on his back.

Maybe we could fight the beast..? Maybe not as good as my last group of companions, but at least now I am not forced to run from the fight.

"Can you use that?" I inquire to him motioning towards the sword.

His eyes slide my way and they are untrusting. "I can, yes. I was in the army once."

"Good and you two?" I purpose looking to the apostate then the burly woman.

The mage nods eagerly. Her eyes are bright as she looks up to me. While the woman gives me a suspicious look.

"You aren't thinking we could take on that thing?" She asks, the question making everyone's eyes turn to me.

I don't know for certain yet. It would a close call, I've never seen them fight. Yet they are all I have. I have no option of out running the thing.

"Yes." I answer, hesitantly. "I do."

"That is suicidal!" The boy hisses, turning back towards us. "We won't last-"

"Oh come on, they are not immortal." I try not to let my doubt show to them and I smile at the apostate. "You'll fight with me, won't you?"

She looks hesitant, but nonetheless thrilled. "I-"

"Absolutely not." The older woman snaps, hugging the girl around the shoulders. "My little Bethany will not face a dragon!"

I can see Bethany does not being coddled in her mother's arms. She is far too old for it, but she does not pull away and only makes a face. "Mother pleas-"

The boy interrupts. "No she's right. You'll get hurt; we are not going to fight the dragon. We'll just wait it out here."

I nearly laugh at his ignorance. "You cannot 'wait out' a dragon."

"And why not?" He retorts, standing taller and towering over me.

I'm not intimidated in the least. "Because it's only a matter of time before it sets the whole forest on fire or comes crashing through the trees. Did you really think that is what makes it wait? The land about us?" I sigh, looking around at them all. "I don't know what it wants. But I'm betting a fight, by the way it has not killed us yet."

Bethany is peeking out of the bushes trying to glimpse it now and her mother looks frantic, the boy has fallen silent though all but sulking.

The burly woman looks unconvinced by my confidence. "How do you know so much on dragons, stranger?"

"Is it not common knowledge then?" I reply, trying to appear as though I thought that true.

The boy gives me a sharp look. "What is your name?"

My eyes flicker around them all, and I draw in a deep breath before they meet his again. "My name's Caela."

I've always admired the name. I was not going to go by my real name, Tera, it would only help them click the thoughts together. My knowledge of dragons, my mage heritage, my looks, the name.. so I must lie about one thing.. or maybe more, later.

The three similar looking ones exchange glances. I suddenly sense I am not the only stranger they met on the road and I look back at the red head burly one. She doesn't seem put out in the least about not being included into the thought process.

None of these people remind me of my old companions and I glance nervously in the dragon's direction. It roars up again and I can tell it is getting impatient.

"Help me fight it." I murmur. "That is all I ask. None of us may escape here, if we do not fight it together."

Bethany nods, and then struggles out of her mothers persistent arms. "I will help you." She says, to her group's dismay.

The boy shakes his head. "No, sister it is too dangerou-"

"It is my fault we are trapped here, Carver." She says suddenly, her eyes sad. "If we had not been fleeing for my sake, like we have always done, then we would not be trapped here now."

He looks hesitant and his hard eyes soften some as he looks upon her. "It is not your fault that a dragon swooped upon-"

"But it is my fault that our sister was killed back there." She instantly says, guilt shaking her voice and pain swarming her amber depths. "As is the death of the Templar-" She glanced at the burly woman who was glaring at her now. "If I was not an apostate then sister wouldn't have had to fight Templar's for my freedom and-"

"What happened back there was not your fault. Never, Bethany!" Her mother says, moving towards her again. "Do not blame yourself- the Templar killed your sister- not you, and the Templar deserved his de-"

"Wesley was a good man!" The redhead suddenly exclaimed and I tense, watching the scene unfold helplessly.

The boy pushed by my shoulder, intent on the woman. "He murdered-"

"She attacked first!" The woman claimed and Bethany's face crumbled in sadness.

"He was advancing on Bethany, she had ever right to attack." The brother snapped.

"The girl is an illegal apostate; _he_ had ever right in taking her in."

"She isn't-"

"People." I snap, but they didn't hear me as they continued to bicker. "_People!" _I try again and still they paid me no heed.

Irritated, and feeling like I was back with Alistair and Morrigan – with their fighting – I clenched my jaw and I stepped forward. Similar to what I used to do I placed a hand on both their chests and then, since I had not the strength to push either of them, I embraced the power pumping through me and sent a scorching heat through my palm and into their flesh.

They instantly jumped back, sending me hostile looks, but I sneered in return. "Stop fighting! We do not have the time for this. We must work together, for the time being. After the dragon is gone, then jump to each other's neck! I will not stand between you then."

Bethany and the mother relax some now. The boy and the woman exchange a tense look before slowly, they both nodded in my direction.

"Good." I say, and then looked to the elderly one. "You stay here, but if you see it going bad, run and-"

My sentence cut short there as I was about to tell her to return to Denerim and tell them I, Tera, have fallen, but I couldn't. Of course I couldn't... if I died here.. then I guess they will never know what happened to me.

"Run and make sure you get to safety." I finish after a moment and she nods, looking uncertain about this still. I guess I could muster some sympathy now that I've learned her eldest daughter has just died earlier today.

The rest of the group looks hesitant and I pull my staff from my back. "Ready yourselves." I murmur, approaching the edge of the clearing slowly. "Aim for its underbelly. That is the best point to inflict the most damage."

I didn't see them nod, but I expected they did, since I got not verbal response.

I slip through the tight bushes and they follow behind. The leaves drag across my skin and it is like they are trying to hold me back, begging me not to do this.

I worry about the younger mage more then myself, she doesn't look like one up for a battle. The boy is strong, but lacks armor. The older woman, she is the least of my worries, she has a shield and decent wears.

When we enter the field I spot the dragon in all its strength. It tosses its head in threat as I observe it. It isn't the biggest dragon I've ever encountered, from what I see it isn't anything special.

With me in the lead, we all file onto the grassy, newly singed, field.

It is a dark purple-ish maroon and its scales shimmer in the early morning sunlight. The smoke shrouds over head, billowing from the forest behind it and filling the field with a thick gray snog. I glance back at my… well let's face it pretty pathetic looking group and I pull my robe up to cover both my nose and mouth.

It roars, shaking the ground as it stomps to its feet – where as it had been lying in wait – yet almost immediately it ducks low, sending a spray of fire at us.

I react easily. I was clutching my staff and I drew in a breath, pulling forth magic. I swung my staff out and send a wave of ice out from it. It melts away instantly, but it withholds the flames from reaching us and I nod the group forward as I twist the staff and send a bolt of lightning directed at the reptiles face.

It's distracted and I circle to my left, on the outer of edge of the field. Not once do I tear my eyes from the beast and I send a ball of ice against its face, just as the others came in contact with it.

The boy is swift and the woman deals heavy blows. I look to Bethany and she sends a feeble spell of stone towards the beast, she is not practiced. I could almost tell she has never been in the tower; if she had been trained then it has not been for very long or very well done.

I grit my teeth slightly as she draws its attention towards her. She couldn't handle the brute of its attention. I focus deeply, hurrying closer, oxygen already coming in labored gasps. I send a blast of freezing crystals at the beast.

It rears back around, snarling in surprise. Though the chapped and sore scales from where I'd hit it gave way to its pain.

I pace, half-jumping back as its head lowered towards me. I scrambled out of the way of its flames, but I failed to notice its tail.

"Look out!" The red headed woman suddenly shouts and my eyes focus on her. The blood was spattering her face already, and then the motion of the tail was in the corner of my eye.

I stumbled back a step, trying to get out the way, but it was too late and my legs were swept out from under me. The spikes running along the tail, tore through the back of my robes and pierced my flesh, sending a wave of agony through my entire body.

I crashed back down onto the hard ground and I sucked in a tight breath; flinching. The blood soaked through my robes, and dripped down my back. The warmth even went as far as traveling down my legs when I stumbled back to my feet.

I was forced to use my staff for support.

My eyes look up at the beasts face now. It swings around, its feet flay out to beat at the two who attack it with swords and it efficiently throws them back.

Bethany ran along the outer perimeter, much like I had been. She was sending weak spells against its hardened exterior and it was not even enough to distract it.

I draw what little energy is left still pounding through my veins and I hardly know this sort of magic- but I try to heal myself. Just as I've grasped onto the spell though the dragon tosses back its head and roars louder then it has yet.

The sound of it is like agony in my ears and I hear Bethany screech in harmony to it. My ears ring, my head fuzzes over slightly and next thing I know I am bucked back ten feet by another sweep of its tail.

My cloak catches on a spike as I run along the sharp ridges. I struggle to get free, I twist around and shimmy from the robe, but before I could get off the dragon raises its tail, only to whip it back down again and breathlessly tear me away.

I land on my stomach, my clothes almost completely shredded to bits.

I just can't help but think of how stupid this all is. If I had Sten or Shale to keep it busy then I would be able to stay my good distance. But not with these ones, they just weren't strong enough. Bethany could never play the strategy game me and Morrigan had for both of us to stand on opposite sides and snap its attention back and forth.

Blood falls into my eyes from the gash across my forehead and it takes all my strength to lift my arms up and brace them against the ground only so I can lift myself up from the ash covered ground. I wobble on my knees and I noticed the boy lies unconscious on the ground.

_Yes... this was very stupid._ I think; knowing I must help him.

I rip open the pack, that had been on my back but had lain a foot away after the tail tore it from my shoulders. The beast roars again, and this time throwing back the redhead with its tail. Franticly, with shaking hands, I take out a bottle of lerium and drink it in one swing.

Bethany is running back and forth, avoiding each spout of fire the dragon delivers to her. The redhead is just stumbling back to her feet. It takes only seconds for the potion to kick in and feel the magic fire up in my veins where it had once been worn. I use more than half the amount drawing it out and without using my staff as aid, I send a strong petrifying wave of rock towards the dragon.

It is temporarily unable to move and I act quickly; downing two health potions, before I am able to struggle into the standing position. I can feel the slashes running down my back recede and the blood flow ceasing. My eyes sweep to Bethany who is all of fine, if not winded, and I immediately jog to her brother's unconscious form.

I glance at the woman who is actively slicing at the exposed underbelly and I know I have only a minutes before it would break free of my spell.

I use the rest of my energy and send a rush of blue light over the boy. It seeps into the cuts and bruises and slowly they clear until he moans- and it is met with awakening roar of the dragon as the rocks that had encased it start to crack, crumbling to the ground.

The woman dives out of the way of one and it nearly crushes her, the dragon looks enraged about this. I help the boy to his feet and he is at first dizzy, but I shove him forward and his face darkens with purpose; sprinting towards the dragon with a determined war cry.

I hold tight to my staff and send a spray of weak lightening at the beast as I retreat backwards and out of its range.

Bethany sprints to my side shooting weak spells also and she is completely unscratched so far and only exhausted. I instantly grab another two bottles of lerium and I toss one to her.

She looks uncertain, as if she has never seen one, and I gulp down mine for show. She follows and I see her strength return as we both step forward, showering the beast in a blizzard of bitter cold. Some of it hits the two combating in the front line, the blast of wind throwing them off their feet momentarily.

They are up in seconds though, fighting through it and I conjure a small arcane bolt to strike with.

"Is it weakening?" Bethany calls, and I can see she is worried this may never end. In truth I don't think I can either. The Archdemon had taken hours to kill, but this isn't an ancient God... why isn't it weakening?

"No." I reply, through the din of its roar and then suddenly it ducks down sending flames upon us. Before I can react or defend, the fire hits us full force.

I cry out, the fire ravishing my flesh and I am blinded for only minute... but that is all it took.

It swings its face lower, and the scaly, warm muzzle of its face skims across my abdomen. I nudged me back a step, its shiver worthy breath fanning over my entire form.

I blink against the pain only to hear the horrid sound of teeth tearing through flesh.

It was met with an equally dreadful scream. I focus through the smog to see the dragon had Bethany within its teeth. I reach out towards the girl, but the dragon pulls back up and out of my reach.

Bethany is in agony. She is trashing from the hold its teeth has on her and then the dragon is shaking its head around; viciously ripping and mangling the girl beyond repair.

The boy cries out in rage, as well as fear. He continually strikes the chest of the beast, but to no avail. Its tail flies across the ground, sending both the warriors onto their backs.

I draw my staff, send spell after spell, of ice, fire, stone... but it does nothing.

When her screeching ended, in a bout of a terrible gurgling, she is released. She is tossed to the ground carelessly as if she is not even fit for a meal to this dragon.

"_Bethany!_" I whirl around at the desperate cry breaking through the air and the mother is spiriting out into the field.

The boy and the woman go back to active fighting and that at least is a relief. I run towards the woman, careful to keep my face towards the beast, still spraying it with spells.

I drop down though when I reach the body and the mother sobbing over it.

"My baby! My baby!" She gasped futilely.

I look at Bethany and her body is nothing but a mess of gore; shattered bones and shredded flesh. Her face is the only thing that was untouched, save for the gash running along her cheek and the blood that bubbles from her lips.

"You must get to safety." I urge, grabbing the mother's shoulder. _How could I have thought to fight the beast like this? With these amateurs; I must spend more time taking care of them then spend it fighting. _

The questions and regret run through my mind now, when the adrenaline of the fight faded and the panic faded. To think, I had thought this morning was a beautiful one.

Before I could say anything more the mother suddenly snaps her face up to mine.

It is composed of anger. Yet I knew she didn't hate me, not like I hated myself. I knew what it was like to look into the face of someone you hated. I've looked in Jowan's eyes when he learned I told on him and I've been face to face with Loghain before. She didn't compare to them, but somehow I couldn't move, I felt so retched, just looking at the tear on her face.

_I killed her daughter.._

She suddenly shoves me, surprisingly hard, and in the chest. It sends me sprawling across the ground. Her voice turns shrill. "You!" She shouts. "You made her do this! She should have-"

Her words were cut off by a sharp roar and the tears running freely from her face distract me, as her chest suddenly gives a violent shake and a straggled sob escapes her lips. Shame and guilt had built up and piled onto my soul.

Maker, I'm stupid.

I make to stand, but then I hear a startled shout from behind. Carver is franticly shouting something, I don't know why until I suddenly hear... laughter?

It is with deep humor and delight, yet it was high pitched in its tone. It sent chills down my spine and as I lift my face back around, I see that there is no longer a dragon, yet instead standing in its place is... Flemeth.

My face pales of all color, all other emotions are blown away.

_I-I killed her!_

I shake my head, surely this isn't her. She doesn't look like herself, though I get the unmistakable feel it is she. She is wearing an elaborate, intensely embroiled robe, of the same purple-maroon shade the dragon was. Her hair is a starch white, but it is strange as it seems to appear as if she has horns hidden beneath the tresses... or even as though the hair is itself were the horns.

She looks no younger, but hands down ten times more impressive and immensely powerful.

I pushed myself into the standing position, brushing aside my braid and holding tightly to my staff as I take a few steps towards Flemeth. The boy and woman stand, gaping at her grinning face, their weapons are held slack at their sides.

I approach and just before I am in front of her, the wicked smile on her face dampens some and her laughter comes to an abrupt halt. I'm careful to keep an expressionless mask on my face, but I know she saw the horror and shock running across my face just two seconds ago.

"You have grown weaker, it seems." She murmurs her voice like the raspy purr of a cat that has just caught its prey.

I feel everyone's stare turn towards me, but I don't tear my eyes from Flemeth's. "And it seems... you have raised yourself from the dead." I retort and it only sets off another trill of gleeful laughter.

"Oh yes, if you would like to truly believe I was dead in the first place." She finally replies nodding towards me. There was a spark in her eyes, it was familiar, it reminded me of Morrigan; if only a little.

I let out a long breath, which I may have been holding. So... when I had chased after Morrigan she was not kidding when she said Flemeth still thrives.

I give her a sharp look. "Why do you return to me?" I hiss, an ebbing anger for the girl's death was beating in my heart. "Why do you attack these people? If it is me you seeked revenge on, then call me out, do not hide behind the disguise of a beast!"

She looks even more amused by that and slowly paces forward, where as the warriors back away, and she is soon standing just a step in front of me. All I had to do was reach out my arm and touch her, but I stayed stiff and standing tall.

"Where would the enjoyment in that be?" She says, her voice filled with cunning. "To just show myself to you? I had to make sure you were still strong enough to handle the task I ask you of."

I sneer. "You want _me_ to help _you_?"

Her lips curl into a delighted smile. "And I will help you in return."

"How so?" I snap, impatient- yet slightly curious.

"You seek a new life, no?" She says and I purse my lips, looking around at the surrounding people.

I take my time to answer. "I do."

"Then I shall bring you to where ever it is you like – safely – and all I ask of you is to take this.." She pulls a locket out of her pocket; it is nothing fancy, just with a silver chain and a pennant hanging from it. "Take it to the Sundermout, that lays outside the city of Kirkwall, there you will find a dalish clan, bring this to the keeper and she will know what to do."

"There is no consequence?"

She shrugs. "There is only one catch to this deal."

I look around at the people and I glimpse Bethany's body. Guilt fills me and I sigh before looking back at Flemeth. "You have a deal if you also promise me that all my companions may be safely taken where ever it is they may be heading, as well."

She considers that, I watch her maul it over slowly and then she looks suddenly _very _amused. "I agree to your terms, Warden."

And then of course, that draws attention.

"Warden?" The boy instantly calls, his eyebrows furrowing. I instantly cringe. "As in a Grey Warden?"

The silence ticks by as I glare into Flemeth's glowing amber eyes.

"_Well?_" The woman presses, when a long period of it passes and I am forced to lift my eyes away from Flemeth's face.

"Yes. I am a Grey Warden."

"Now, now... don't be modest." Flemeth murmurs and I hiss at her to be silent- she ignores my wants. "You are in the presence of _the _Grey Warden. The Hero of Fereldan, I think they call her now."

There was a mild reaction among them and I look up franticly. "I do not wish to be called as such! Call me Caela. Not Tera, please."

"How desperately you wish to forget your past." Flemeth mused, looking suddenly thoughtful. "For a smaller life is that what you're seeking?" She doesn't wait for my agreement. "Yes, but-" And she breaks into new laughter.

"But what?" I snap, she has already uncovered me and killed the girl, what else could she say?

"But fate has a great sense of humor it seems." She replies, mysteriously, and then suddenly she holds out the locket more insistently. "Take my deal, girl, and you will find something of what you seek."

I hesitate, but she offers me something I can hardly resist. She offers the fulfillment of a want I _need_. I left to lick my wounds in peace, to start over, and she offers me that – with a small price. I hold out my hand and draw in a deep breath as I clasp my fingers around the chain and she lets it go into my grasp.

"I accept your deal." I say pulling it towards me.

She smiles, nodding in encouragement.

Her eyes are lit with something I can't place. It unsettles me as her voice is suddenly all too satisfied for my liking. "A good choice, child."

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><p><em><strong>AN: (Note: To those who have read the past version, this is review. But it is rewritten, edited, and holds more thought/emotion process.) **We are back in the present and the next chapter will go back to the future. Sometimes I will stay present. It all depends what's going on. Well thanks for all the favourites and alerts! I'm sad there are no reviews, but I'm still going to trudge through this! (All I'm asking for is a simple 'I like it' or something.) Thanks for reading, sorry for typos! -Taryn(:_


	4. Anders' Choices

_**Chapter 4- "Anders' Choices "**_

_**(Future)**_

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><p>"Caela?" He repeats.<p>

Anders pushes open the door of the little room and I make sure to keep my eyes firmly closed. If he would just leave..

"Caela." He says again, stronger and louder.

I flash open my eyes when his shadow fell over my form. I found myself looking up into his brown eyes. They were warm in color, but they suddenly hardened in anger.

"Where have you been!" He practically shouts. He falls onto the edge of the bed, a hand of his instantly reaches forward and touches my shoulder; as if he was testing the reality of this.

I try not to pull away. "Out."

His eyes sweep over my face. Can't he see how exhausted I am?

"Out?" He repeats. I can see he is trying to reel in his anger, but he had every right to be angry. I've abandoned him and the others, I ran from the city and left my duties behind. _Just_ as I had done in Denerim.. "Out where?"

"Out and about." I say, vaguely.

He is unamused by my answer, but sighs heavily. His clothes are soaked, and he stands, tossing aside the damp outer robe of his. The fur of it was clumped together and dripping. His hair was tied back as usual, but it was messy from the wind outside, and the blonde locks glistened with rain drops.

I lay immobile in the bed, my eyes wide and frightened like a child's. Anders doesn't say much, but he looks back down at me for a minute.

I wonder if he was remembering the first time we met. I wondered if he was thinking about the passed few years I have been in Kirkwall and how I used to treat him.

Why isn't he yelling? Why does he have so much damned _control_! Was it Justice that held his hand? Was it pity? I didn't see any of it on his face...

"He's looking for you, you know. He's worried. He's practically going out of his mind."

At first I felt my heart jump. I let my mask fall away and my face twisted in anguish, I had thought at first, that he meant Alistair. My Tera side let loose, and I pictured Alistair running frantic in the storm, his blue eyes like a pool of light popping out of the darkness. I disregarded the way he would look with his king's armor and how he just did not fit into the scenery of Dark Town. All I could think was of him, l_ooking for me. _Worried_.. about me. _

He meant Fenris.

"Oh." Is all I could say. My voice was choked.

He frowns, but nothing more. "You should sleep." He says. So he _could _see how spent I was..

His back turns towards me, but he only walks into the other room. I hear him rustling around for a while, but I realize after a few minutes that he went to light a fire. I watched through the crack of the door as he hung my clothes to dry and he took my staff and stood it neatly to the side. He warmed himself by the flames for a a long while, then began to cook something.

I nodded off then, into a light, fitful sleep. Dreams haunted me, mostly of Darkspawn- that really have never gone away.

Anders woke me up when I began trashing around. He didn't say anything about it; which is odd. Most people question me about my constant nightmares.

He just handed me a bowl of the food he had made upon waking, wordlessly. It smelt delicious and I ate it gratefully while he sat down at the desk inside this little room. I sat cocooned in the blankets, my hair was snug and waving down my shoulder, it was dry now. The fire had warmed up the cold and detached clinic, making it almost pleasant enough you could forget about the smells.

I watched him as he began writing stuff. I didn't ask what, but just sat in silence... my thoughts turning at a slower, less frantic rate then before.

My time as the Hero of Fereldan felt like it was an insubstantial fantasy now.

When I had been recruited by Duncan seemed so long ago.. I could hardly recall what he looked like. Even he ceased to appear in my dreams, it was mostly just ogres and dragons and other Darkspawn.

I wondered if Anders still had nightmares. He never let on. Yet the taint was so faint in him... when I first met him I didn't even think what Varric told me was true. He couldn't be a Warden, I couldn't feel the same thing in him as I had in Alistair..

I suppose I just assumed me and Alistair were different. We were more closely tied to the Archdemon. Its blood had once lay across our flesh and we once had been targeted by it personally. Of course we were more connected to those beasts, but I felt relief that Anders wasn't so tutored.

Maybe Justice kept him clean, to a point. Maybe the spirit helped purify him. The thought was an enlightening one, but I still questioned the security of being intertwined with a spirit from the Fade.

Could Justice see through me? I had once wondered that. If the spirit could help Anders lose some of his taint then maybe the thing could sense the blood in me. I soon came to realize that it was impossible for anyone to know. Unless they are a seasoned Grey Warden who could sense the taint like I could, otherwise I doubted anyone would be calling me out for that reason.

For recognizing me in appearance was... a whole different story.

"Where is he?"

My voice was hoarse for some reason, but I disregarded it as I placed the empty bowl onto the bedside table. Anders looked up at me, his face strenuously taunt.

It just occurred to me, that he wasn't holding back his anger and questions because he felt bad for me, but because he is a healer and his instinct from the years of running this clinic was to let me rest and heal before pushing anything further.

His answer is said lightly. "We parted ways at the gate. I don't think he was heading home, he wanted to stay out longer. I had to convince him to leave the coast, since the sea was getting so harsh it was becoming too dangerous to stay and search." He pauses and adds softly. "Though apparently we weren't looking in the right places."

I resist the urge to make a cheeky response like, 'bet you didn't think to check your bed', and instead look down at my hands that were limp in my lap.

"You're my friend, Anders.."

"Anders?" He says, and I knew it was coming. "What happened to Abomination?"

I grimace. The anger and mockery, that was well deserved and covering his expression falls away after a minute of seeing my guilt. It was replaced with concern in an instant. Maker, he was bi-polar. I waved him away when he stood, and continued to say what I was trying to get out.

"We're friends, now. Right?" I don't wait for him to answer. "You are one of the few men in my life who has stayed, you know that? My childhood friend.. Jowan, he and me, we ended on bad terms. Then... then another, before Kirkwall. Then Fenris.."

"You have Varric." He points out. "And your brother, he-"

"He hates me. He became a Templar in _spite_ of me, stop defending me." I snap and I bore my eyes into his quizzical gaze. "Varric doesn't count. Neither do a lot of others. What I'm saying is.. thanks, but I'm going to be even more selfish now. Because I can't tell you why I ran and why I'm still not coming back... not to the others.. not until-until.."

"You are expecting me to let you back out into that storm so you can get sick? Or are you thinking I'll lie to everyone, while harboring you here?" His voice is slightly sharp, but again, he had more right then any to have it be so.

The corners of my tips turn up slightly, in a sad amusement. "Your choice, either one works for me.."

I just sort of hoped for the last one; I really don't like the rain.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **Choices! Sorry if this is confusing, but really it isn't so hard to understand. Of course, review or PM me if there are some serious questions. The water is murky so far, but slowly it'll fade; as I've mentioned before. Thanks for reading, sorry for typos, please review! -Taryn(:_


	5. Kirkwall

_**Chapter 5- "Kirkwall"**_

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><p>The Waking sea was harsher then I had previously thought. Though who knows what I expected considering I've never traveled beyond my home land of Fereldan before. The deep waters, of a washed out graying blue, beat against the boat. It threw us about with cold winds straining against the mast.<p>

The crew worked against the vicious tides, while I sat deep within the belly accompanied by my new companions. The mans name was Carver. He used to fight in my army, with his recently deceased older sister. His mother wouldn't look at me much, she was consumed with anger at Bethany's loss. The red head was the wife of a passed Templar and she takes my presence hesitantly. Yet they all give me a range of strained and pained smiles.

The proof of their true bitterness was shown in way they had not even thanked me.

Upon making my deal with Flemeth I agreed to go where ever it was they had been heading. The Templar's wife wasn't going anywhere, but she was convinced that she had nothing to return to now that her husband was gone. So it was up to Carver and his mother to supply us with somewhere to go. It took then awhile but his mother came up with an idea that is beneficial to me- as it is close to Sundermout- and a place where her brother lives.

Kirkwall.

I've never heard much of it. I've caught whispers about that place at the palace in Denerim. Only small thing about how the Arishock stayed there for over three months since last December and that it was a tense environment. Where as the viscount is scandalously trying to keep it quiet...

I didn't bother to think of it much. I didn't want to get myself into more politics or clashing races. I've had my life's fulfillment of war. Dark spawn and warriors, kings and noblemen- I've had myself up to my neck in that lot of stuff and I don't want anymore.

So I'm going to Kirkwall.

I repeated the name in my mind, it didn't stick the way Fereldan did. It didn't hold the remembrance of my travels, those nights in camp, and the warmth of my old friendships. Things I will miss. Yet Kirkwall promised me a breath of fresh air. It was what I'm searching for. I wouldn't chicken out from it, even if it is foreign and unknown- and I'm heading to it with a bunch of strangers who frankly I don't trust. Plus they know who I really am.. and that won't bode me well.

I would need to make them a deal or work out some sort of agreement. They keep my secret and I.. protect them? Be their personal slave? Kiss their feet? .. I expected that from Carver. He was the high and mighty type- his mother may just want to flog me to death.

With Aveline I don't know what she would want, but I was betting my whole sack of galleons it would be something big. I guess in the mean time I would have to just wait for it.

The ships travel was probably the worst of my journey. (Though it pales a bit in comparison to traveling the darkspawn infested deep roads.) Unable to bathe- instead get showered with the sea's salty spray. Over crowded with people, terrible motion sickness, and lack of proper food. The heat caught up with us on some days at sail and we sat out in languish- stripped of heavy clothing, panting.

I might just have to rethink taking deals with Flemeth next time she comes about asking me for one. She obviously doesn't realize how to properly hold of her side of these things. I mean, _safe _travel, does not entitle these sort of conditions.

Arriving at Kirkwall- was a matter with little relief. The gallows were still a creation of when the city was full of slavery. The statues of weeping, starving slaves was not to my taste. I felt homesick for Fereldan, as I walked from the dock- with the sea at my back and strangers on each side.. I craved Alistair's voice more then I have ever thought to.

The day was moderately hot, humidity hung in the air- clinging my robes to my body. I was a mess of a sight. When I caught a look at my reflection on a city guards metal uniform, I was reminded of those days traveling across Fereldan- seeing my hair as wild as flames, the color it is. My robes would be soiled with blood, instead of salt water, but of course back then it had been Sten's or Alistair's armor I looked into.

Sighing, I approached the city gates. There was a horde of people there, hanging about- sitting along walls. Complaints were being shouted, hostility was high in the surrounding area.

"They're not letting anybody into the city." Aveline says, drawing my attention to her.

Carver's mother instantly looks distressed. "That's impossible, they can't do that."

"Looks as if they are." I respond, eying the guards as they order the people back. "There has to be someone we could talk to.."

The thought is a half hopeful one. If I plan on going into Kirkwall as Caela then I have just as much a chance as getting in as the other Fereldan's here. If I wanted to go in as Tera, the hero of Fereldan- well I would be let in immediately and word would get back to Denerim within the next ships departure.

I looked over at Carver, who met my gaze with a half glare. Now was the moment, to make a deal- I glance around and then I murmur for them to follow me and they do. I lead them into a darker corner where only a few people lurk around. I'm standing against the wall, they corner me in, so I cross my arms of my chest, in a slight defense.

I stare first at Carver, then to the second most threatening- Aveline.

"I need your help." I confess, because they look confused at my new placement.

Carver nearly sneers at the statement. "Yes, because _your_ help last time benefited us so well."

"Do you really believe you would be in Kirkwall now if it was not for me!" I snap back, my temper much too easily triggered. I saw his defensive side rise and I was forced to clench my jaw- not to forget the whole thing and just return to Denerim now.

"I would not have left Fereldan- if not for you." He states, and I narrow my eyes.

"And pray tell me, _what_ have you left behind?" I say. "Two dead siblings? The destroyed remnants of your home in Lothering? The none existent job you had after my army was laid to rest?"

To this he made no reply. Aveline leaned closer, eye intent on my face. "What is it you want our help with, Warden?"

I cringe at the name. "Well first, do not call me that." She nods. "Second.." I glance around the space. "I need you to forget who I am. I beg you to never indulge the information upon others- no matter the circumstance. Will you help me.. leave my past behind? Here, together- we can start anew."

They are not so moved by my words as I had hoped. Carver stares at me as if I am mad, while Aveline only seems hesitant. The mother though, looks at me in a strangely fond way- yet I can still see the grief clouding her eyes.

"You remind me of Bethany." The mother whispers, her voice cracking slightly.

The words makes my muscles tense. "I do?"

"She had always stressed the point of us staying together. My little Bethany could not bear to see her family broken a apart."

Carver shifted his weight then, looking to his mother. "You can't think she would want us to do this? To help the Warden?" He asks.

"We can not know what she wanted, Carver." Is her only reply- but it makes me smile, if only slightly.

"Will you help me then?" I ask.

Looks were passed- they were probably remembering the last time I asked for their help. One of them came up dead. But after a long bout of silence, Aveline nods. "I swear to the Maker, I will not speak a word of it to anyone."

I smile upon her and then Carver cuts in. "I do not find any gain from telling. You have my word it will not be me who tells."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Says his mother, I beam at all of them- it is as if a weight has been lifted. And now I breathe the salty humid air in gratefully..

I'm finally feel free. The homesickness dissolves and in its place is a drive for something new. The name, my new name sears into the surface of my thoughts- _Caela. _I can not return like those other Wardens, or like my companions, who all went back to their past, to what they had before the blight. I had only the Circle and Jowan- of which both are of something I hate now.

Kirkwall though- I lift my eyes to the wall- it is nothing spectacular, the slave markings are not 'pretty'.. but it is my new home now, or so it will be..

"What is your plan?" Aveline asks, and I turn back to them.

"We get into the city."

Carver gives me that look again- the one that makes me feel like an idiot. "How do you suppose we do that, _Caela?" _

Only he could make my new name sound like an insult.

"You've an Uncle here don't you? If I heard correctly, then he is a Nobleman."

Carver looms closer. "And who says he will let _you_ in? He is my Uncle."

I don't rise for the bait. "You would no-"

"Gamlen will get us all in the city." His mother cuts in. "Bethany would never forgive me if I left Aveline out here alone or.." There was obvious hesitation in saying the next part. "..Caela. She has helped us get here at least, Carver. Can you not pause to care?"

She still wants to blame me for her youngest daughters death. As does Carver. Aveline looks like she does not belong with us- but she stands there blatantly. Her eyes looking off sadly- thinking of her husband no doubt. I felt guilt for the deaths I did not even cause, and then as I looked between the mother and son that were arguing over the distance with their eyes... I raised a hand to rub my temple.

A headache was brought on by all this noise about us, the shouting people and guards- the complicity of my issues. I longed for at least someone I knew, yet I know that it would only be worse with them here.

I don't say a word as I move, but I slip passed my group and head for the guards, in their shiny armor and booming voiced glory. They are standing before the steps that lead up to the inner walls of Kirkwall. I swerve through the gathering of my fellow Fereldan, I step before the man in front- with blonde hair and warm brown eyes.

"Excuse me-" I began but he cut me off.

"Back up, back up! Do not bully your way to the front- no one's getting in." His arms raise to move the horde back, but it only sends the people to muttering and stepping over each others toes.

I hissed when Carver's boots clamped down on my own feet, but I try again.

"Why are you not letting anyone in?" I demand, and the guard's eyes center on my face.

"There have been too many refugee's from the previous blight- we must not allow more, the streets are overflowing from those who refuse to return to Fereldan. We do not need anymore, stealing the jobs of the people in Kirkwall, bringing on more poverty."

"But we have to get in! Isn't there someone we could talk to?" Aveline cut in.

The guard looks around us uncertainly, his eyes focus mostly on me though- his eyebrows are dented slightly. "I do not think it will do you much good, my lady." He gives me a slight nod of his head. Great, even in my state of disgust people believe me of some nobility. "But you can talk to my guard captain.."

"Where?" I instantly hiss, looking around.

He nods his head behind himself, mutters slight directions and I nod my thanks while my group scuttles after me.

When we reached the square entrance to the gate I looked around sadly. There were a few people, starving and moaning as they leaned against the walls. Some were shouting out for coin and though I could numb most of that out- since my past experience- my companions did not seem so unaffected.

"Look at all these poor people." Aveline whispers as we approach the head guard who was currently in discussion with a group of men. "Someone should help them.."

"Why? It was their own fault they became the way they did." Carver snaps, receiving a glare from the two women, while I didn't even chance a glance his way.

When we near the group of men standing at the base of the gate's stairs, you could over hear their argument. The men who were armed and clearly angry are demanding entrance and as I pull up to the side he falls silence- every men's eyes falling to me.

I promptly ignore the group and look to the head guard.

"Why isn't anyone being let into the city?" I ask, backtracking on question- wondering if there was more reason then people let on.

The guard gives nothing away. "There are too many refugees from the Blight. There is simply no room. I'm sorry, I-"

"But we have family here!" Carver says.

"Yes, well a lot of people claim-"

"The Amell's." The mother says. "We have an estate and everything."

The guard was trying to be respectful, but his face suddenly twisted. "Amell? That does sound familiar.."

"What!" One of the men who had been arguing exclaims, snapping his eyes angrily between me and the guard. "You can't be serious! We have been here for days, and they haven't had foot on this dock for an hour and you're going to let them in?"

The guard sighs. "No I-"

"We payed good coin to get here!"

"And so did half of Fereldan, but you're too late. There is no more room."

I cut in then, my eyes glancing towards the gate. I definitely considered sneaking in, but with the others and our deal I couldn't so I tried to make a point. "You have to be letting some people in, otherwise you wouldn't be here."

"Citizens and merchants that make our wild, yes. But not refugee's."

Carver wouldn't take no for an answer. "But doesn't our family count? You said you recognized it."

The guard looks unconvinced, even still. "I've heard that a thousand times before, trust me. We'll all find ships to take you back to Fereldan, eventually. Until then you stay here."

"There must be someone else in charge we can talk to." I respond, trying not to let my annoyance with the man get the better of me.

He doesn't understand- I _can't _go back.

"The city has been closed by order of the Viscount and Knight Commander Meredith whose fortress you're standing in." He lifts his chin at this, showing arrogance- I grit my teeth. "But as far as your concerned _I'm_ in charge."

I wonder what he would say to Tera, the Hero of Fereldan. I'd like to see what a lesson of manners would do to this man, but I hold my tongue. This is exactly what got me in a world of trouble in my past, the Blight might have been just a speck easier if my tongue and temper hadn't got me into so much trouble...

"Please." I nearly hiss. "_Gamlen_ Amell, he is the uncle. Surely you could at least bring him to us if you won't let me in."

"Gamlen?" The guard suddenly exclaims, making the hope rise in Carver and his mother's faces. "I know that name."

"He's a Nobleman here in the city." Carver offers.

The guard nearly snorts. "A Nobleman? The only Gamlen I know is a weasel who couldn't rub two coppers together." He seems to ponder this but then shrugs. "If he comes back, I'll bring him to you. But I don't have time to-"

"You are going to let _them_ through!" The same man from before exclaims and now he takes up a threatening posture, glaring over at me.

The guard obviously doesn't see the anger building in their expressions, the dead set violence that clicked into their minds. Not like I do, not like I've been trained to see. He continues to try and calm things. "I didn't say anything abo-"

"That's it! We're carving our way through." The man booms, hefting the sword from his back. "Men!"

I've seen this too many times in my life, my muscles move on instinct- my staff if off my back in seconds, my first spell is my go to one. I spread a wall of ice towards the enemy, throwing the weaker ones off their feet.

The warriors and rogues are upon them then, before they can recover. I take two steps back, onto the stairs and out of the heart of the fight- but instead I stand back and throw spells down from where I stood.

I stick to weaker ones, that won't drain the magic in me so quick and waste any of my lerium potions. I send fire balls, stone fists, and nearly as many of showers of ice as I can manage.

The clashing noise of the swords and armor, the call of rage and pain, the panting and growls of men- they are like a well known chorus to my ears. The blood that splatters my face and hands, even from so many feet away, is like a well worn layer of skin. The warmth of it, the smells of battle, I am reminded of Tera and I fall into her easily.

Instantly I dive closer, I forget about being the cautious Caela and to use simple spells- I move aside the guards and Carver, invoking the strongest warriors attention.

I freeze him, before he could even get one wound in. I strike repeatedly, not using spells but just the magic I felt throbbing to the surface, that flushed my cheeks.

I was angry suddenly. Angry that though this was the familiar battle, these were all stranger's faces. Angry that they stood in my way to the city- Kirkwall, my new chance at life! How could they try to stand in my way of this? Flemeth promised me that I get this life and if I have to kill a couple of mediocre highway men to get it, I will.

Alistair would be ashamed at my lack of care for saving 'precious' life, but he wasn't here to restrain me anymore. I draw on this anger, the magic that soared inside of me, _boiled _in my blood.

He is thawing, I've reduced his health to nothing, he hardly clings to life- the other men around him are half way gone and I intend to take them all out in one blow. I duck forward, my staff is tossed aside- it is my cheap one to make me look poorer anyway- and I am nearly undone by this anger. I grasp the man with both hands around his face, my fiery blue eyes glare into his, my lips sneer, and I let the magic rush out of me, into my palms and onto his face.

He screams, smoke rises from the connection between our skin and then I suddenly rip my hands away. His own hands replace mine around his head, he falls to his knees, and just as another guard, that had ducked over to help us, raises a blade to his back- I grab my staff and Carvers arm and I rip us back out of the fight.

We are just out of the group, stumbling up to Aveline and his mother who were thankfully out of the fight, when the walking bomb spell takes effect.

Blood splays out in all directions, whoever it hits, they fall. They shout, their weapons are clattering to the ground. Fewer, who were not directly at the man's side, only had little droplets touch their flesh, and they wondered in deranged little circles, as the blood seared through their skin.

Carver looked at me in shock, but I just watched with a straight face as the last few who actually survived that were cut down by the guards.

When the rebelling men finally lay at rest I look at the mess of corpses and blood with disgust, I wipe the blood from my face with the sleeve of my robe and then take a step towards the head guard who looked just as disgusted as myself.

"Unbelievable." He spat, turning his gaze to me and my companions, but then someone else came running up behind our backs and I tense- reaching for my staff. I stall when I take in the sight of the last guard we had talked to.

"Captain are you alright?" He shouts, though he is standing just in front of us.

"I am. No thanks to you." The head guard replies, giving him a stern look. "Where is everyone? Go find them! I want this kept under control. We do not need fighting like we had at the beginning of the Blight!"

I opened my mouth to ask how bad the refugee count had been back then, since I had my mind on other things at that point in time, but he beats me to it when he looks over at us and says. "You have my thanks." His old arrogance is gone, true earnest covers his expression. "Look, I can't get you into the city. It's not my decision, but I'll find your uncle and bring him here."

He is turning away and climbing the steps towards the gate before I can reply and tell him this is not my uncle, as he referred him to be.

I glance at Carver and the mother, but they just shrug. Aveline is the one who responds. "What does it matter? You have no real identity yet, only a name."

"You want me to pretend to be your sister?" I ask archly at Carver and his carefully masked face.

It twitches. "Why would you want to pretend to be related to us?"

I don't- I think generally at first. I wished I could leave them behind, but I have to make sure they keep up this deal for a little while. But how do I know that among all these refugee's and travelers and merchants there isn't someone here in Kirkwall that will think they recognize me? Maybe I could use a back up of these two, maybe I could use a last name like Amell to get myself at least off of the bottom of the food chain..

"I don't care if you do." The mother sniffs, looking at me sadly. "You got us this far, even without Bethany. If you can get us into Kirkwall, then what does it matter if you take the place as a daughter of mine. You're old enough to be without me and all I have to do is say yes, you're my daughter..."

I smile, then look to Carver who just frowns and shrugs. But he did stress the point that only _if _I got them into the city though. That meaning only if this uncle Gamlen can't help then if I am the one who gets us through then the sister thing is a go. So now I was kind of hoping the guard didn't return.

Even so, I convinced them to walk off with me and find a place to camp out as we wait. I know that the fake sister plan could work because even if Carver had black hair and amber eyes, his mother has gray hair- that could have been just as auburn as mine before- and though she has his eyes, my 'father' could have had blue eyes. Appearance won't hold me back, just the walls of Kirkwall.

I needed to get in. But I couldn't do anything for certain until Gamlen came and confirmed weather or not I would get my chance at this ploy. Aveline and I sat at the base of a column, the mother leaned into it and Carver stood close by, glaring at stragglers that came too close.

My anger was simmered down now, my temper was pieced back together, and I lay my pack into my lap- sighing. I'm exhausted, and my adventure has hardly even begun.

* * *

><p>It took him three days to reach us..<p>

"Leandra!"

The name makes my companion jump, Carver is on his feet in seconds; you can never be too careful out here, with all the thieves. When I look up there is a man heading from the gate and Carver's mother is grinning.

"Damn girl, the years haven't been kind to you." The man continues, making towards us. I stand, clutching my staff and eying him. He's of average height, he has a short graying beard that matches the thick gray hair, and his dual colored eyes shine darkly.

"Gamlen." Leandra says, her voice full of relief. She meets him a few feet away with a tight embrace.

I see the hesitation in his returned hug, his eyes are shifty. "Let me just say up front; I wasn't expecting this. The Blight! Your husband.. dead. I-I just.." She pulled away from his hug and he couldn't quite meet her gaze. "I just figured you'd pretty much be Fereldan for life."

I don't trust him, for the oddest reason he reminds me of Loghain, if only slightly.

"Oh Gamlen, we came too late! My poor Bethany didn't make it, Andraste guide her.. and my girl Melina."

"Oh Maker save me. Leandra don't drop this on me here, I don't even know if I can help you get in."

I see my chance and I step out of Carver's and Aveline's shadow. The man's eyes instantly go to me. He looks at me oddly, but for my own sake here I say. "How about just your relatives? Leandra and Carver? Me and the woman will find some other way." I indicate my head to Aveline, who doesn't seem to care I'm calling the shots; as people usually follow the Hero of Fereldan.

Leandra instantly disregards my suggestion. "_No_. We stay together."

Gamlen glances around at the four of us and sighs. "I was hoping to grease some palms, but Knight Commander's been cracking down. We're gonna need some more grease."

"But what about the estate?" Leandra says, her eyebrows knitting together. "Surely father left something when he died."

Gamlen got shifty, his eyes would flick to the gate as if he considered to hide within it's confinements. "R-right.. about the estate. It's um.. gone. To settle a dept." I heard Carver growl under his breath. "I've been meaning to write you..."

I watch with surprise when Aveline lifts a hand to the boys shoulder to calm him- even more so when he does uncoil, though it is only a little, it was something.

"Then there is no hope." Leandra sighs, shaking her head.

I tried not to smile, as my mind instantly thought up some ways to get myself and them through the city. My plans were half built when they were shattered by Gamlen, who continued to say something.

"Not quite." He says, lowering his voice, his shifty eyes looking at me and Carver mostly. "I know some people who might help. _If_ you're not too delicate about the company you keep."

"We don't have much choice, do we?" Carver grumbles.

Gamlen gives the kid a meek look. "Well I talked to my contacts and I found some people who would be willing to pay your way into the city. The catch is-" _Wasn't Flemeth saying about catches and deals? _"-Carver and Melina.." He pauses, stunted for a minute, then gives Leandra a pitying look. "I had thought she would be.. alive. I don't know if the deal would-"

"I'll take her place." I say, interrupting him. "My name is Caela and I-"

"And she is my third daughter. I was meaning to tell you of her, I just never wrote because she was always so.. and she is like Bethany and my husband.. I didn't want risk the Templars.. you know how it is." Leandra cuts in, I try to hide my bewilderment at the story, even Carver looks a bit thrown- but I force a small smile.

"Well then." Gamlen says, looking me over like those people in Denerim used to, before I became a Grey Warden. Like I was a wife or thieve in training. "I guess it'll do. She's is smaller then Melina had been. Are you skilled?"

I try not to snort. "I'm good enough."

"Well the deal would require you and Carver to work off the dept.. for a year."

I've known what it is like to pay a dept, but for that long? Probably doing dirty work and kill jobs. That was ridiculous and I knew I could find myself a better deal if I tried. My temper wavered, mostly because the magic in my blood suddenly pulsed tighter and I disliked this man. Against my better feeling, I swallowed it back.

Leandra is just as shocked. "_A year?" _

"It was the best I could do. Trust me when I say a bunch of refugee haven't and won't get a better option anywhere else."

My tongue can't hold itself. "So selling us into a criminal servitude, is our best option? I don't buy it."

"You don't have to buy it, just endure it. Think of it as a job waiting for you in your new home." No one makes a reply so he continues. "I managed to convince my contacts to come to the gallows to meet you personally. Mearin, is head of the mercenary company; The Red Iron. They're looking for recruits. Athenril, I guess you might just call her a smuggler. Either one of them can help you. All you need to do is find them in the court yard, and convince them you're worth the trouble."

Carver makes to ask about them, but I hold up a hand, glaring at Gamlen.

"I'll meet with them, but I can't guarantee they would be worth my time."

Gamlen gives me a shrewd look. "You think you could do better? A year was all I could ge-"

"We'll see." I murmur and then turn away, leaving Leandra behind as Aveline and Carver follow.

"Do you really think you could get us a better deal?" Carver asks me quietly as we approach the court yard.

My eyes scan the stones and then through the people. "I might."

"How?"

"Depends on the person. Come, I want to meet this mercenary."

I spot a gaggle of four or five men, who look to be exactly what we want. They have finer clothes and sharper weapons then all those others hanging around the wall. The man that was with them locked eyes with me when I was gazing across there, and I recognized the assassin -like gleam. It was like he targeted me, it was his instinct to look me over and find ever little weakness he could possibly find.

I approach them, and they seem to smirk. They see my shortness, my tiny fists, and think I'm comical. I know that look, but it has been awhile since I have ever seen it. The look used to always be there, when I would wander the tower with Jowan, the Templars constantly had expression showing that similar look.

I stopped getting those smirks when I would have people like Sten, towering over my shoulder and Shale clomping along at my side. Now.. I'm back in the same meek looking position; constantly taken as a joke.

"What can we help you with?" The man I assume as Mearin says.

I look him up and down. He is a semi-tall man, still holding youth, but he reminded me of Zevran. Not because he was as handsome! Or even looked to obtain his skills, but because of his lean body type.

"I'm Caela-"

"Hawke." Carver finished for me. "And I'm Carver Hawke. My uncle, Gamlen, sent us. Can get us into the city?"

Mearin eyes me. "I was told you had the skills to prove yourselves."

I try not to sneer. "Tell me what you want done and.. we can work out a deal."

"Deal?" He hisses, stepping forward. "There already is a deal. We get you in, you work for a year."

I shake my head, reaching for my staff, but his hand snaps out and grasps me around the wrist. It was twisted enough to bruise me. "I don't have a year." I snarl, trying to rip it back- it doesn't work so I draw forth the magic as an instinct and his hand retches back in shock, the fire leaving a burn mark on his flesh.

Truth is I just don't want to spend months after months in service of someone else. I have just devoted a year of my life to Fereldan, and the Blight and the Grey Wardens. I didn't get anything out of it, I was left with a broken heart, a dead childhood friend, and a mountain of duties they expected me to fill- I wasn't about to throw myself at the feet of someone who would just bargain my days away with dirty work.

"I'll give you three months service, anything you ask. In return you get all of us into the city. You agree?"

Mearin doesn't like getting bossed around it seems, he rubs his hand where it was wounded and then exchanges glances with the men around him. They tense, and I was anticipating a fight. I take my staff off my back and I know I saw a glimmer of apprehension flint onto Mearin's face.

"There is a hundred others I could offer this deal to. They wouldn't even hesitate. Who do you thi-"

"Then why isn't there a hundred others lining up behind me? Why haven't you stopped looking for recruits if there are so many occupants?" I step forward now, bending my head back to meet his gaze, I was about to go further but Aveline stalled my hands from taking his face into mine, like I had done with the highwayman.

"Caela." She warns me. With that I think I snapped back into myself.

The anger had snuck up on me, I tried to shake it- but I could still feel it. I felt it in my blood, I didn't know whether to blame it on the magic or the darkspawn infection. Maybe there was more reason for us to be with other Grey Wardens.. maybe the darkspawn poison would take effect faster, maybe the blood was tainting my emotions..

I shook it off, drawing away from the man and holding my staff a loft. I blink at the men for a minute then look back up at Mearin in apology.

"Three months." I state, my other hand reachs to the sack of money on my belt. "And I pay you over half of the dept."

I hand him the sack, then another one that I had buried in my pack. It was nearly all the money I had taken with me, of the fortune I received from Alistair and Fereldan for becoming their Hero.

The man looked unconvinced but he looked through the hundreds of galleons his face was pleasantly surprised. "You have a deal, Hawke."

A jolt of surprise caught me at the name, but I hid it well... I would have to get used to it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **Same old, same old. Thanks for reading, sorry for typos, please review! -Taryn(:_


	6. Brief Relief

_**Chapter 6- "Brief Relief"**_

_**(Future)**_

* * *

><p>"You can stay." Anders sighs.<p>

He didn't want to let me, he hated lying to the others. I actually bet Justice is yelling at him mentally right now. He should turn me away, he should demand an answer for my ridiculousness, and he doesn't. He truly must be a healer.

"Thank you."

He scoffs a little at my gratitude.

Anders had sunken back into the chair at the desk, his face in his hands while his elbows were propped up on his knees. It was a position I knew well. A signature of mine almost, strange that he would choose that one. I almost had a childish urge to sit up and try it, just so I could fall into the familiar perspective.

I stared at him for a long time. This was the first time I think me and Anders have been alone. Like alone, _alone. _And silent too. I could hear every little drop hit the roof above.

Their was no awkwardness to it though. I felt strangely rested and relaxed, for the first time in a week, mind you, it was almost like his presence did it to me. The clinic had instantly warmed after he arrived (not just due to the fire he lit). I think I understood now why he refused Varric every time that batty dwarf offered him a bed in The Hanging Man; Anders _belonged _here.

It was hard to imagine him in the confinements of the circle as I have once known it.

"Do you remember it?" I ask, softly, barely daring to speak. My curiosity overthrew my constant will not to. "The circle, I mean."

His fingers shift slightly so his eyes peer through them at me. I give him a lopsided, hopefully, apologetic smile. "Yes." He says. I can tell he was being cautious at to what I was asking.

"How.. do you recall it?"

"I can't say I know what you mean."

I sigh, moving a hand in a sign of exasperation. "You know."

He sits up now, dropping his hands down and his forearms laying against his inner thighs. "I don't. How do _you_ recall it?"

I gnaw on my lips for a moment. "Tall. Really, really tall. I remember sitting at the windows, looking down, and it was so high up.. the world so far _down. _I used to think leaving would be impossible." I raised my eyes to the ceiling. "I also recall it as.. very suffocating, with all the Templars, or those armored statues making you think someone was watching you, and yet.. I also felt never alone."

"Hmm." He hums, considerably. I stare at his eyes. They give away nothing. I was waiting for him to laugh at me, but he never did.

"I remember it differently." He says, somberly. His finger tapped against the side of his cheek, those brown eyes would not meet mine as he spoke. "I was a pig back then. I thought the tower was a trap, filled with a lot of tail. Girls just itching for adventure at every corner, it was a free for all for someone like me." He gives a startling laugh. "But I'm not like that anymore, Justice has shown me my selfishness there."

"You and him, close, aren't you?" I mumble, from the side of my mouth. I still didn't like that he was tainted like that, with a spirit. But hey? He was a Grey Warden too, maybe he just enjoyed being poisoned.

Anders' glare told me all he thought of my statement.

For a long while after that, with me picking at my finger nails and him running his hand over the drying fur of his cloak, there was nothing but the pitter patter of rain. I waited for him to say something, to be angry, sad.. anything.. but he was so speechless I felt this agonized me more than anything he _could_ have said.

I imagined what it would be like if Fenris were with me. I expect he would be standing closer, his hands curled into fists and me, as tense as a board, unable to look away from his eyes. I would laugh nervously, trying to wave away my stupidity, my thoughtlessness of making him worry. _"So, nice weather we're having."_ I would convey and he would fight the twitch of his lip, while yelling, "_How can you talk of the weather right now!"_

The shudder running down my spine was not because of the harshness I imagined in his tone, but the fear I felt creeping into it. He would be scared for me, as all of my friends are. Poor, lost Caela- they would think.

I wished I could deny it.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_Really short I know, I'm sorry but this is all that needs to be said for the future right now, the next few chapters will most likely be all the present going into her early life as a citizen of Kirkwall. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, however minimal length it has, and thanks for reading. Sorry for typos. Review! (The second I get the first review, I literally start writing the next chapter, so if you want a fast update, reviewing would help!) -Taryn(:_


	7. Dwarfs

**Chapter 7- "Dwarfs" **

**(Past) **

"No! Andraste's tits, human. Do you know how many people want to go on this expedition?"

"But we heard you were going into the deep roads, surely you'll need as much help as you can ge-"

"No!" the burly dwarf repeats, turning around to glare Carver and I in the face. "You're too late, already done. This is the sort of adventure that can make a man for life. I'm not about to make any chances hiring random humans."

Something funny about dwarfs.. they all seem grumpy, and short. I try not to be offended by the tone he used, like I was a stupid child. I sucked that up and placed a hand on Carver's wrist as to stall any tension. If I have learned anything in the past three months of service, it is that Carver is about as snide as myself with it comes to jumping right into something.

"We have both fought and killed dark spawn." _Me, quite a bit more then him. _But I held back that thought. "How many of your hired men could say the same?"

"Get in line human," the dwarf grunts, tossing a thumb behind his shoulder. "half of Kirkwall wants to be my best friend right now."

His arrogance shows. He talks with wild gestures and a gruff voice, and when he sways a little in his walk, I almost could imagine him and Oghren being pretty good drinking buddies. He turned away from us, still muttering under his breath, "Looking for a quick way out of the slums, you and all the other Fereldan in that dump."

And then he was gone, and Carver twisted to face me. His expression showed he was going to blame me for this problem as well. Like he always does, he jumps at me like I'm all the wrong in the world and I have to fix it, right now.

"Now what are you suppose to do? We've got nothing to stop the next person who tries to sell us out. This expedition was our last chance."

He's worried about the guards finding out we have no valid place in the city. He's worried about his mother and not so much about Gamlen, but more his uncle then me at the moment. I'm left to worry about myself, his mother no longer looks at me and Gamlen treats me like a piece of furniture. To our past assassin boss I'm a good killer.

It almost made me wish that someone back in Fereldan was missing me. Thought then again I don't. Over the passed months I have let go of them slowly. I am not so reliant on a wake up call every morning by my hound or some maid, I can sleep in until the very last moment I wish. I no longer have to deal with pesky nobles and I don't have to face Alistair each day, with our awkward grins.

"Ceala!" Carver snaps, snapping me from my thoughts and I sigh, rubbing my head.

That was the problem with this picture; I had baggage. I had Carver, his mother, and Aveline who all knew my secret. I have to worry about Templar's trying to catch apostates.

To appease Carver I say something, "Don't get your knickers into a twist. We've made a name for ourselves over the last few months, we'll find something to get us out of the rut."

"You have to," he agrees, nodding and then turning back out of the bustling square. It was one of many wide, paved places up in High Town, and I turn with him heading forward as he continues to talk. "We need coin, or status, something we can hide behind. As long as we are just Fereldan we are no one."

I hum an acknowledgment, while really I wasn't listening at all. My eyes wonder to a gathered group of dwarfs. They laugh gruffly, one sips from a bottle. It's not even noon! My eyes fly to the early morning sun in the air and then I realized Carver stopped walking a few feet back.

I skid to a halt just at the edge of the square that led into the next. I turn to face his scowling expression. I flash a dainty smile. "You were saying something?"

He snorts humorlessly and clomps over to my side. "Maybe Gamlen has someone who can talk to Bartrand."

I made a face. "You're – _our – _uncle's not exactly the most reliable tool in the shed." I glance around to make sure no one heard my slip up. I was still getting used to going by a different name.

"And he's all we got," Carver sighs, then some realization seems to light his eyes and he stares at me. "Maker save us," he mutters after a minute of over thinking his statement.

I let out a bark of laughter.

"Well!" he hisses above me, pushing me forward to walk again. "We might as well ask, otherwise I might be stuck with your ideas.. and I like breathing, quite a bit."

"Oh, you've made a joke!" I exclaim, while shooting him a look and shoving his hand off my shoulder. I grin when his usual scowl falls back into place. That's something I can always rely on. Carver's scowl, it fit him perfectly. I bet if Alistair were with me he'd cal-

Ah, shit!

No Alistair thinking!

I turn away from Carver, suddenly angry. More with myself then him. I need to keep the my strict new rules, the ones that involve not thinking of Alistair and imagining a future here in Kirkwall.

As we walk out into the new square I walk more agitatedly with my arms tucked tightly around my chest. I'm not paying attention to the people running about, I stare straight ahead with my jaw clenched. My thoughts pointedly thinking about trivial things.. like what I'll have for dinner tonight.

I wasn't watching where I was going.. and this jerk with fiery red hair bumps into my side. It stunted me for a minute, and I blink, but my hand instantly goes to my belt. I've met Zevran, I know all the signs.

My money's gone. "Hey!" I shout, whipping around just fast enough to see him sprinting away. Carver looks around like he's forgotten where he was.

_What a incompetent fool!_ I grit my teeth, moving to grab my staff. That would be all the money I possess, that would be the money that would buy mine and the Hawke household's dinner for the night.

I was about to take another step when I witness an arrow zipping threw the air, heading for the thief. It caught him in the shoulder, showing good aim on the shooter, and the arrow had enough force that the kid was knocked against the build on his right.

Now I would have to thank someone... the thought wasn't my favorite. I let go of my staff and shove Carver along with me, while he grumbles. I ignore him as always and watch as the second dwarf of today encroaches on the thief.

I hardly caught his words.

"I knew a guy once who could take every coin out of your pocket just by smiling at you," his words were silky, like shooting people in the middle of town was a hobby of his. "But you? You don't have the style to work High Town let alone the merchants kid."

The dwarf reaches him, looking up at the guy consideringly before the kid gives up the money sack. "You might want to find yourself a... new line of work." Then he lifts a fist and delivers a good blow to the side of the guys face. He rips out the arrow and the redhead mewls like a child, before dropping to his knees. "Off you go," the dwarf murmurs, as if they had a pleasant conversation.

I think I like _this_ dwarf.

He was as short as any, but he wore something of style. A nice jacket, fitted pants, a large buckled belt and some interestingly colored shirt underneath, left hanging open up top to show off an impressive amount of blonde chest hair. And a plus? Expensive looking jewelry.

Carver looks distrusting, but he never has good judgment I've learned that good companions can come from anywhere. Ranging from the assassin that tried to kill you and failed, even to the giant rock golem. I smile at this new dwarf and easily catch the sack he tosses my way.

"How do you do?" he inquires, twisting around the arrow before tucking it away. His hair is a dirty blonde, pulled back into a tie and his round face has a shadow of a beard, with a low sloping nose that makes him look like the guy who you wanted to befriend. "Names Varric Tethra." He indicates his head to the way we came. "I apologize for Bartrand. He wouldn't know an opportunity if it hit him square in the jaw."

I raise an eyebrow. "And you would?"

"I _would. _What my brother doesn't realize is that we need someone like you." I hear Carver snort again, he thinks anything to do with me is laughable. I resist the urge to elbow him and listen to Varric. "He would never admit it either, he's too proud. I however, am quite practical."

I believe that. There's no arrogance to this dwarf and I nod. "There must be a way to get your brother to hire us on..."

"We don't need another hireling. We need a partner. The truth is that Bartrand has been tearing his beard out trying to fund this on his own, but he can't do it. Invest in the expedition, fifty sovereigns and he can't refuse. Not with me there to vogue for you."

I glance back over at Carver. "_I'm_.. prepared to accept.."

Carver shrugs. "I have no other choice."

_Everyone has a choice,_ a voice hisses in my mind. It sent a violent chill across my flesh. I felt clammy and my eyes fly between the men. I was afraid they might have seen it. But the voice was unmistakably Alistair's as much as I wanted to deny it and what Carver said were once words I had said, many times.

"Everyone has a choice!" Alistair said to me once. Shouted to me actually, across the roof of the Denerim tower. He sounded so angry at me, he was so breathless from having fought by my side for so long. And on that rooftop.. when I nearly.. and then.. I closed my eyes to clear my thoughts.

I was breaking the rules again.

"The only problem is we don't have enough coin.." I murmur, opening my eyes to look at Varric. They both pretended that I didn't show anything strange. I appreciated them for it.

"You need to think big," Varric says, like he was selling us something. "There is only a brief moment of time after the blight when the deep roads won't be crawling with Darkspawn. The treasure you find down there could set you and your family up for life."

"Doesn't sound too easy," Carver comments.

"Nothing ever is," I reply, looking down at the hand that held my only amount of money. I didn't have nearly enough to be even half of fifty. Working the expedition won't be easy because though there will be a lot less Darkspawn to face then the last time I was there, I still had the memories to face down there as well. Just when I hoped to escape my past. But this was a once in a life time chance, this could set up a life for me away from everything.

"We work together, you and I, and before you know it you'll have all the capitol you need. What do you say?"

What was more risk? "You have a deal."

"Perfect! Kirkwall is crawling with work, you set aside some coin from every job you'll have the money in no time." And that I know for a fact, work was everywhere. No one ever solves their own problems.

"Maybe Aveline could find us some work, she's got a position in the city guard now," Carver suggest, and I'm pretty sure it was the first useful thing he's said all day. I consider this, hooking the money back on my belt. I was preparing to go home when Varric adds something more.

"We should talk privately when we get the chance. The Hanged Man maybe, I'll be there when I'm not with you or walking around apologizing to those my brother pisses off. Now," and a charming smile lights his face, "let's see what trouble we can stir up."

I can't help but smile back. What's a few more dirty jobs for coin? I could handle more then that. I bump Carver in the arm, and nod forward, while both me and him follow Varric for a few steps. Before I know it, I've either stepped around him or he's fallen behind me, but all I know is that I'm now in the lead whether I like it or not...

It's always been this way. There isn't and hasn't _ever_ been a choice.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_I'm sorry it's been so long and this chapter isn't too terribly intresting! THANK YOU to anyone who has favorited/alerted this story and most importantly reviewed! Reviews make faster updates! (: I promise more excitment! Fenris loving and Anders bullying (poor him) and also, if I get enough reviews or answer about my next question.. then I will do it! (maybe) QUESTION: Is it alright if I change it to M for later on smut between characters? Just to know, I can either cut it out or skip over it with no details, but I want to know what readers would prefer! -Taryn(:_


	8. The First Slip Up

_**Chapter 8- "The First Slip Up"**_

_**(Past)**_

I lay in bed, my face tilted up and staring up at the cracked, wooden ceiling over head. Gamlen's house was not the dirtiest, nor ill-built place I've ever slept. I knew I had to get out of bed, but I just didn't want to. I couldn't. My limbs were too heavy and my burden too much. I just wanted to stay under the weak blanket and stare at this ceiling forever.

I heard Leandra in the other room, walking around. Her shoes make a slight squeaking result from the old floors. I knew Gamlen was out at a bar or something. Carver left hours ago, off to do whatever it was he does when he isn't with me. It was a few hours after noon and I knew half the day has wasted away, when I could have been out gathering coin for the deep roads expedition. I could have finally met up with Varric, as he asked me to, but I just lay here.

I suddenly screwed my eyes shut from the sight of the ceiling and cast my face to the side. My fingers tightened around the necklace I held. It was cold, metal and my hands pulled it up and out from under the blankets, right next to my eyes.

As if daringly, I opened my eyes slowly to look at it in wonder.

I had to deliver this too. It was another thing on my list to do and I've been stalling this one for nearly four months now. I don't know if there's a deadline or anything but it seems like this is the most important thing, it's at the very top of the list and I don't need – or particularly want – a dragon to swoop upon me once again.

The attached metal locket felt warm to the touch. I didn't know what it could be for, what it could mean or how the Dalish clan of elves could possibly know what to do with it, but it didn't seem to matter to me in the whole of things.

Sighing, I force myself to sit up and I pull the locket into my chest. My hair falls into my eyes, untamed and tangled from sleep and tossing of nightmares. I got up and stumble across the cold floor to a cracked mirror across the room. I sat on the stool in front of it, set aside the locket on a book and began to brush my fingers through the mismanaged locks.

I admire my reflection. I'm not old, but I no longer feel young. I knew I was nearly twenty when I was recruited from the Circle of Magi and a year passed since then. Only a year and three long months. I'm twenty-one and I've been through (_I thought)_ everything!

I've loved a man, I've loved someone beyond my reach, I've sacrificed blood and my innocence, I've poisoned my own body, I have saved a nation, I have killed, I've learned magic I never even thought existed.. and most importantly, I grew up.

I could have aged mentally a hundred years, while my face only showed a small crease around my lips when I frowned. It didn't matter, beauty never mattered to me. _Some_ men liked to say I was as beautiful as a rose. My body slender, but coiled and trapped with sharp thorns that could throw someone off, and my face peaked, supple, sweet to look at, while my hair was striking with it's shocking red coloration. You know.. some men (man) once told me.

I sniff, rubbing the side of my cheek's pale skin. I pushed myself back up and pulled on my robe's, my commoner, lowly robes that weren't my striking green Magi robes. If I wore those some people would question me where I adorned them from. I grabbed my slightly less powerful staff that leaned into the wall and then I paused. I turned back to the mirror and suddenly flipped my hair away from my shoulders and lowered the clothing.. until a long, pink scar showed.

My finger traced down it. It was received by the claws of the Archdemon, that is why it suddenly veered to the left. That is why it could not be healed with magic. It was ugly and in a place only an intimate friend would see. It started at the tip of my collar bone and hooked around and between my breasts, abruptly trailing under the left one and over my ribcage. It was the wound that nearly killed me. It was the wound that I nearly gave up everything for.

I had no choice, I once said, trying to hold in the blood. I sat on my knees, my body shaking with the extremity of the effort it was to still draw breath. The pain was mind numbing, the blood searing hot against my skin that was whipped raw by the fierce howling wind from atop that Denerim tower.

I almost gave up. I almost let that darkness win. No one was left to revive me, I was the one who did that, Morrigan did not know the magic. The Archdemon was nearly left for dead. In that moment of pain and hopelessness I was going to allow Alistair to take that last striking blow, but his voice reached to me.

"_You always have a choice!" _

Dying was a choice. Living was a, infinitely better but exceptionally harder, choice.

I had a choice and I pushed myself up from the ground and... I've lived long enough to look at this scar as it turns into one nearly pale enough to blend in with the rest of my skin.

I shake away the thoughts and I pick up the locket to tuck it into my pack. I throw the pack over my shoulders with my staff. I walk out of my room and saunter passed Carver's mother who only gave me a glance as I approached the door. But to my surprise she said the first thing to me in nearly three months.

"You have a message on the table."

The words were said emotionlessly and even had a snide edge to them. I stopped in shock, stared at her for a long while, then moved towards the table with new purpose. I picked up the parchment, wondering who would write me.. when I recognized the hand writing.

_Hawke, You were a pain in the ass to deal with, but a bloody talented one. If you get sick of being just another unemployed refugee in this shithole maybe we could grab a drink. If there's any odd jobs my boys can't handle, I'll send them your way. -You're welcome, Meeran_

Good to know that he's still thinking of me, I thought while sneering at the words. I tossed the thing aside, but not two steps away from it, did I sigh and push the message into my pack as well. I might need the money he could offer...

As I walked out the door, I braided my hair to the side and took the steps two at a time. My boots were the only new thing I owned, they were slim cut and fit tight, the soles of them completely unworn. I mustered a small smile to an elderly man standing to the side of the slums and then slipped out into the busier atmosphere of shops and buyers.

I walked through the crowd, peering down at people's wares with a new kick in my step. I forced it to be there. I forced myself to hold my shoulders a little prouder then I usually would and I kept my eyes peeled for Carver or Varric. They were practically the only people I knew around here. I knew some shop owners, I knew a useful seller up in High Town and I knew a handy poison maker in Dark Town. Otherwise anyone else that I met because of Meeran were mostly tensely avoided, because the job description never did say anything about friendships.

Walking towards the steps that led into High Town I spotted Carver leering over a woman. He was talking in a special soft voice he must have reserved for picking up girls. I only took a second to find amusement in this. Carver was like an annoying straggler to me, or I guess _sometimes_ a extremely irritating little, little brother. And this scene was just laughable to me, but what was even more fun.. breaking it up.

I nearly skipped over to them, grinning. I fell onto Carver's arm, hooking mine through his and blinked up at him innocent. "Oh, Carver there you are! I was looking for you, I was wondering if you coul-"

"Not now, Ceala," he says quickly, dismissively. He looks at me for a second, shake me off and then goes back to the young girl who was at least seventeen, with pretty straight teeth and short blonde hair.

Interesting taste. Her big muddy brown eyes told me she was innocent and she was flattered that a man like Carver stopped to flirt. _Hm_.. lets make this interesting.

I had Oghren and Leliana in mind when I did this.

"But Carver! The abortion is today."

That caught both their attentions. Carver reeled back and looked at me in total disgust, as if he thought I meant I was getting on. She frowned in dismay and disappointment.

"You wou'd kill your own chil'd?" she said, and she had a heavy accent I could not place. It made her say her D's strange.

I pretend to be appalled. "Oh never, not mine. Carver's wife!"

Carver coughed. Hacked more like, "Excuse me?"

I rolled my eyes, and began tugging him away by the arm. "I'm terribly sorry, he has to go. I'm sure you two can catch up later." I waved while pulling Carver up the steps to High Town. "Maybe you could meet Lady Hawke!"

The girl seemed to _hmph, _like meeting a woman who got abortions was just too far below herself and she strutted away. Carver groaned, shoving me away while I laughed half-heatedly.

"She's gonna tell all her friends and schoolmates!" he complains and I shrug.

"So? You need something better on your mind then girls-"

"Do I? Why can't I? I'm eighteen, I still live with my mother. It is bound time I found someone to love or at least find my own way in life.."

His serious tone withdrew a somber expression from me. We continued up the stairs, but I watched him out of the corner of my eyes. His hands tore at his hair slightly, before he forced them back down.

_Oh. _

I suddenly felt queasy.

"What do you mean?"

He lets out a long, carried out sigh. His eyes stare forward and though I bore mine into the side of his face, he refuses to look over. There is something in his expression I don't like, that I don't understand.

"Don't worry," he finally manages to reply. "I'm with you, sister... for now."

The _for now_ part is what I'm worrying about. Then again, I guess losing him was what I've been trying to do for all these months. I've been trying to break away from this family that has somehow managed to let me in.

But Carver was determined to drop this and I let it happen. I turned back forward and as we stepped out into High Town I kept my eyes peeled for Varric. He had to be around here somewhere, with his brother still about.

"Hawke! Why it has been a long time, hasn't it?"

I looked over, to the dwarf with a long brown beard standing next to a stand. He stares at me, and I try not to grimace. This would be one of many that Meeran introduced me to.

"Worthy. Not nearly long enough."

He boasted a laugh, Carver cringed. We walked over hesitantly and Worthy peered up at us with beady dark eyes. "You still working with the Red Iron, or was that just a few months with them?"

"I'm on my own now," I respond with a grudging tone to my voice.

He nods, grinning. "Good for you, going out there on your own."

I grunt and Carver looks to kicked the paving stones on the path. He was bored. I was annoyed.

"Well if you need anything, don't be afraid to ask. Got every type of runes you could need. Here," he hands me a slip of parchment. "A on the house recipe! If you want more, you know where to come."

I slip it into my pack, unenthusiastic. "Thanks, I'll be sure to remember."

I half jog away with Carver at my side. We slip through a lot of other shopping stands and then head towards the square where Bartrand usually hangs about, with other surface dwarfs.

When we enter I look up at the sky. It was slowly sinking into evening, I hoped we would have enough time with the elves.

"I don't see him anywhere," Carver says and I let my eyes drift around the whole square, when my heart stops.

"Oh, Maker!"

Carver looks around franticly. "What is it?"

My hand flies to my chest, as if I'm going to die. I did feel short of breath. "Oh my Maker! We have to leave, we have to leave now..." I snatched Carver's forearm and attempted to drag him back the way we came, but he was too heavy and stubborn.

"Wait? What are you talking about, I don't see anything but dwarf-"

"_Shh_!" I hiss, as people start to look up at us strangely for the show. My eyes kept glued on a specific pair of dwarfs that seemed distractedly talking among themselves. "Carver- please, just trust me."

I put all my weight into tugging him back, I don't want to burn him. But it looks odd, me throwing my weight against his like a child. I tried and tried but he wouldn't budge. I was going to leave him, I prepared myself to sprint from this square. The fear was rising, the tightness in my throat became unbearable.

How could I have never thought this all the way through?

Just before I ran off, the worst possible thing happened.

"_Tera?" _

Oh, just shoot me now.

My eyes swing back around to two familiar faces. I distinctively remember leaving them in Denerim with all the rest. But it has been three months.. and they travel.. but..

Carver went rigid now and I shoved him towards the people, unfreezing myself and my face. Instead of running like I wished, I drew in a deep breath. _Come on Tera, don't get weak now. _This was my first major slip up I couldn't let it slide or everything I've down will be for nothing. Or I'll end up looking like a naïve little girl once again.

I approached the two dwarfs cautiously as the people around the square, who hadn't heard the name he said, looked away from us in no interest.

"I'm sorry, what did you just call my sister?" Carver said, clearing his throat. I relaxed slightly, knowing I had someone on my side.

Bodahan and Sandal didn't even spare Carver a glance, there eyes stared into my face, like they couldn't believe what they were seeing. I couldn't look away, I felt like I might be sick. My hands fidgeted in front of me.

"Tera? Is-Is that really you?" Bodahan murmured, leaning closer, looking at my face at every angle.

I couldn't answer, due to the cotton balls dislodged into my throat.

Carver shook his head, making wild gestures with his hands. "Tera? This is my _sister _Ceala Hawke. You must have her mistaken for someone else-"

"Carver," I croaked, dropping my gaze to the stones below, then up to him. "It's too late, they know."

His strained expression of earnest disbelief fell into a mask of blame. Yep, he's always blaming me. "Oh, well I tried. Can't say I didn't."

I almost smiled, out of the sheer almost niceness of that statement. But I think my amusement shown in my eyes and Bodahan suddenly gasped. Our gazes snapped to him. He was looking between me and Carver franticly.

My cheeks instantly flushed. "Oh Bodahan don't get the wrong idea," I shake my head and lift a hand towards him, and he looked at my hand as if in wonderment.

"But," he began to say, "But I was at your funeral! I saw the-the corpse! How, and then this man.."

"Wait just a minute," I demand dropping my hand and my eyebrows furrowing. I kept my voice low for the people in the square. I was suddenly bewildered. "One thing at a time, what do you mean _my_ funeral?"

"Why just two months ago, in the Denerim palace!"

That was convenient, everyone thinks I'm dead. But.. but how could they?

"_My corpse?" _I clarify, raising a hand to rub my temple. I narrowed my eyes at Bodahan, I felt sorry that I was suddenly interrogating his baffled state and Sandal standing there blinking up at me, but not enough to stop. A wonderment bloomed into my mind. I needed to know. I wanted to know savagely what was going on back in my home land.

"Yes," he replies, sounding just as confused as me. "We found it in the Wilds. Merchants in the square said they passed a woman on the North Road while on their travels through the night and when- when Leliana found that note in your room, we assumed that woman was you." He paused to swallow nervously, his mind and mine trying to franticly make sense of this. "Three days later, after a great fire was finally put to rest in those same Wilds, we found a corpse. We knew it was a dragon, by the footprints in the dirt, that started to fire.. and well the corpse was so mangled.."

"I get that," I snap, thinking of Bethany with a knot in my chest. But I looked nothing like Bethany. "That was not me though, she had brown hair-"

"Not from what we saw. The fire continued to ravish the person's whole body. Our healers were able to deceiver that it was a woman in her late teens, her staff let us know she was a mage and well.. other travelers witnessed you going into the Wilds, heading to the Waking Sea. The facts, they all fit."

_They think I'm dead. _Alistair thinks I'm dead.

I don't know how I would have every reacted, or even now.. how I would respond if someone brought me a charred corpse and told me that it was Alistair's. I felt my wonder increase sevenfold. I reached forward, clasping a hand on Bodahan's shoulder and nearly ducked to his height also. Carver was forgotten, my rules thrown out the window.

"What happened after that? Tell me everything."

He struggled to reply. "If you don't mind.. or just for a few moments, pity the old dwarf, I- I'm baffled to know what is going on. Tera, how come is it that you are here? Who was the corpse? Why was there a dragon? Did you summon it? There are rumors, forgive me, but there are things being gossiped in Fereldan that you were in some deep upset, some dark business of magic that caused this trouble.."

Carver suddenly cleared his throat, looking around the square. "Maybe we should talk somewhere else?"

I stood back up and spotted a gaggle of Templars across the way. I felt my instincts sink in, passed my want and I gathered some of my shattered maturity. I nodded to Carver and looked to Bodahan, with my lips pursed.

"Do you mind? I know a place in Low Town that we can find a quite room to converse in. I promise I'll answer.. everything to the best of my knowledge, but you have to promise me one thing in return.."

Bodahan seemed to recollect himself some as well. He pat Sandal on the back. "Me and my son have always served you Warden, why would we divert now?"

I tried not to wince on the name, then suck up my quaking courage. "I need you to promise that you will tell no one, write no letters, of me. There is no Tera in Kirkwall, it is Ceala Hawke. I'm not a Warden, but an," I lowered my voice to just barely a whisper. ",_apostate_. You hear me? I'll explain later.."

Something crosses the surface of his face, but soon her nods. "Oh course Wa- Ceala. It is nice to see you in good health." He raised his voice, picking up some of his wares. "How about we head to Low Town for a drink to catch up?"

The Templars pass us, shooting an annoyed look at Bodahan, a loud dwarf. Otherwise we weren't even spared another second look. I smiled at the dwarfs and helped Sandal pick up a few runes. "Yes, _lets_."

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><p><strong><em>AN: _**_Oh, oh, oh! Reveiew for faster update! Thanks for reading, sorry for typos! -Taryn(:_


	9. Some Answers

_**Chapter 9- "Some Answers" **_

_**(Past)**_

We sat in a private, secluded room in the back of The Hanging Man. My hands clutched a cup of warmed ale and Carver sat at my side, awkwardly fidgeting on a stool that was too small to hold his big framed body. I leaned away from him, but forward across the table towards Bodahan.

The familiar, professional dwarf looked down into his own ale. No one has said a thing yet, I'm wondering who will go first. I let my eyes stray to Sandal who messes around with some enchantments in the background. He's been told to let the grown ups talk.

"How about we take turns?" Bodahan finally gruffs, looking up at me.

I give a small smile. "You first." I know my common manners, the guest goes first.

I debated over taking them to Gamlen's but I didn't want to protrude on Leandra. She need not hate me anymore then she already does. I watch the dwarf take a long sip of ale and then focus back on me.

"What are you doing in Kirkwall?"

I tighten my lips together. He _would_ choose one of the worst things to ask. I didn't have an answer to this question. I couldn't say anything about needing to watch Carver's family, because he was right at my side. I couldn't talk around the talking dragon, that was a morph of a woman that I killed a long time ago.. he'd call me insane.

I took a moment to drink some ale and averted my eyes to the dented table between us. "Next."

"We can do that?"

"_Next_, Bodahan."

He sighs and then shoots off the next one immediately, with heavy suspicion. "Who really was the corpse?"

"My sister," Carver cuts in, his amber eyes boring into Bodahan's fatherly face. "Her name was Bethany and she died a death undeserved. If you think to blame her of any corrupt sorcery then-"

I placed a quick hand on Carver's. I squeezed it and sent him a look to fall silent. Hesitantly he did and I looked back to Bodahan. "It was a young mage who didn't know nearly enough magic to do anything."

Bodahan didn't quite lift his eyes from my hand on Carver's. I immediately retracted it and leaned away from the man. I waited for an accusation, but all he said was, "Your turn."

I had so many questions to ask! How were the others? What did Denerim do after my 'death'? Who showed up at the funeral? What did Alistair do? Who replaced me as Commander Warden? How had the wedding gone?

But, I settled on a different one unlike all those.

"How are you Bodahan?"

I said this earnestly, with true meaning. I _wanted _to know. Truthfully and honestly. He was my friend, he was there through all my trials and heartbreak. Even at the end he stuck through my vicious behavior, no matter how much I ignored him. I felt our friendship still, to me at least. It was a wavering warmth in my chest that I desperately wished to ignite. After losing so many friends, after spending so many month away in this place with strangers... all I wanted was this old friend.

There also had to be a reason he left Fereldan for business. There had to be a background to him leaving Denerim where I had set him up for life and good trade.

"I am not so well as I was in that month at the end of the Blight," he replies, evenly, staring at his ale. "The royal wedding brought much trade to the city and we flourished, but the Hero of Fereldan's death took a toll on our nation. The Blight caught up to use in the past few weeks, on everyone in Fereldan. The lack of supplies, the death of so many useful buyers and ware makers. The unsafe and burned away trails for quick trade. The merchant's straight path of making and selling has failed and the economy has taken a large fall. Sandal and I had no choice but to widen out trades. My old friend Bartrand, he wrote me telling me that he was planning this expedition. He knew of my service to the Warden – you – and that I've traveled through the Deeproads before. He was lending me a hand, by letting me supply the hirelings and such."

"So things are looking up at least?" I murmur, a frail smile on my lips. It was all I could manage knowing my homeland suffers.

"Well," he says smiling back. "Now that I see you, I think things have brightened quite a lot. It is good to see an old friend who still breathes." He paused to think something over and finally seemed to decide on saying it. "I just don't understand, why don't you come back? Fereldan would be so happy, the whole nation just may wet themselves."

I shook away the humor. I couldn't go back. "I left for a reason."

"What would that reason be?"

Carver tutted. "It's her turn."

I gave him a look of gratitude. "Bodahan, were you there when they reported the suspicions of my corpse? Can you tell me what happened?"

His face seemed to darken. "I was there. Everyone was, it was the fourth day after we knew you left. We were all gathered at court by Teagan. The nobles were complaining about someone to hunt you down, because of the job you had of settling disputes and watching over land. Some others thought this was some sort of deserting act, they wanted you dead. King Alistair listened to all their complaints... he was actually about to make some sort of ruling when-"

"Wait," I whisper, unable to stop myself. "What- How did he look, when he knew that I'd.."

"Strained, my lady," he says. There was an understanding in his face. "He looked guilty as well. Him and the Arl argued for a long while, that day before the wedding. There was rumor that he was going to go after you with a few guards."

My breath whooshed out of me. I didn't know if it was better to know, or if it was worse for my turmoil of a mind. He blamed himself for my leaving.. was it his fault? I suppose it was.

I gave a curt nod to let him know that I wanted him to continue.

"Well as I was saying, one of the scavengers we sent out to inspect the Wilds after the fire came bustling in. At his back were other men that had something wrapped in a blanket, strung between them. I didn't know what it was at first, most people were just too baffled to make sense. But I was in the back so soon I caught to smell of charred flesh..."

I could imagine the looks of this.

"The man started stuttering- Oh! And he was holding a staff in his hand. He was muttering like a fool, and was so flustered, you could tell something shook the guy up," Bodahan took a minute to drink some. "Now I'll tell you when Teagan silenced him and demanded a reasonable answer, I think that man could have used a bit more delicacy, but I guess he was all about jumping to the point. 'The Hero's dead' the man spouts and just about everyone in that room laughed at him."

"Laughed?" Carver sneers. I hadn't realized he was listening intently as well.

"Yep. Chuckle after chuckle.. even the King cracked a grin. But Teagan didn't. He narrowed his eyes and he walked so swiftly over to the blanket he was just a blur of a man, and when he whipped it away and the corpse was rested onto the ground.. well let's face it, you were an ugly corpse. Some noble woman vomited and Leliana hid behind Shale. You see, everyone who came for the wedding stayed a little while longer because you left, but the point is, the whole thing was thrown on us."

He seemed to finish his story, but he didn't answer the question I wanted to know most. What did _Alistair _do? My stomach was swimming. "Bodahan-"

"It's my turn, Ceala."

"Right," I choked, nodding, pushing the ale away from me. I felt like I might be sick, just a little, by these nerves. "Right," I repeat. "You go."

"Are you in some sort of trouble?"

"I'm in constant trouble, Bodahan. You'll have to be more specific."

"I am referring to the dragon, to the reason you left." His eyes lifted to Carver then back to mine. "To this new identity you have assumed. I do not think I know your friend from our past."

"You do not," I agree, glancing over at Carver. "I met him on my travel here. Him and his family have been kind enough to offer me a home and a identity to hide behind, nothing more. There is no background of deceit, believe me."

"As always."

I smile at his smile. "The dragon was not planned, it took me by surprise as it has everyone else. It was not 'summoned' or a part of anything. I merely left to travel. I am young still, I am alone and tied down with so much, you understand?"

"I guess I do. I remember being young once. Though, the dragon seems so odd being out in the Wilds. We'll never know will we?"

"I suppose not," I mutter, watching Carver take my abandoned ale and drink it all in one swing. "Can you tell me what happened after they showed my corpse?"

He sighs. "Do you really want to know?"

I tighten my fist together, the anger reared up a little. "_Yes_."

"Alistair retired from the room, almost immediately. Teagan took charge, demanded more people search the area and to have the corpse taken to the healers for examination. The court was dismissed and the King was not seen for three days, he was in his study and no one was allow entrance except Kina. After they began to gather the facts; the dragon marks, the healers results, the staff... everything was thrown together and the funeral happened two weeks later. The news was given time to travel across Fereldan. Many people gathered in Denerim for the funeral, there were so many a lot of them had to stand outside and the first enchanter had to shout for people to hear."

I looked to Carver. He was grieving for his sister obviously, thinking about how the healers handled her and how the people would have looked at the corpse. I tried to brighten his spirits. "Your sister had a grand funeral. She would have liked that, I think."

He glares up at me, he stand abruptly and turn to go. "You don't know her, you wouldn't be able to ever know what she wanted." With that he left, slamming the door behind himself. I winced as I heard his footsteps stomp away.

"What else would you like to know Bodahan?"

He mauls this over and then smiles. "I would like to know, if you need another manservant?"

I can't hold back my grin. _Yes_, it was nice to have an old friend back. "I would love one, but I'm afraid I can not pay you just yet. We will have to wait until after the expedition."

"I think I can spare that time."

"Great," I say while standing. "I'll have to see you around in that time, remember: tell no one." I lean forward and place a warm hand onto the one he has resting on the table top. "It is truly good to see you again, and I hope that you can get yourself back up on top once more. I must go now, before Carver starts some fights. Last thing I need is to pay people off. Maker watch over you."

"Maker watch over _you, _Tera. I hope you know what you are doing. And you have my word, no one will know your secret. Me and my boy our loyal dwarfs."

I drop two coins onto the table as I turn to walk out, slowly. "Those are for the drinks. Don't pay me back, think of it as my gratitude." With that I left them, a million questions still unanswered in my mind. I fought back the want to ask them, as I walked down the shadowed hall.

I could hear Carver's boasting voice downstairs in the main room. I wondered what he could possibly be doing, but another voice took me off guard before I descended the stairs.

"Hawke!"

I look up and over to Varric leaning against the doorjamb of another room. I take a minute to glance down the steps and to the bar, then back to him. "Hello Varric."

"Have you come to talk finally?"

I swallowed. I thought maybe I've had enough private talking for one day, but I couldn't find it in myself to say no. I nodded and he motioned me into the room.

It was bigger then the last dank room I was in. The fire warmed it and made a soft light flicker across the fine furniture Varric kept. He made this place look good.

I turned around to face him again, leaning into a large dining table that sat in the middle of the room. "So what's this thing you couldn't talk about outside?"

Varric sauntered closer. "Well..."

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><p><em><strong>AN: **Third update in two days! **Please write me some reviews!** I'm losing my drive. I hope this wasn't confusing. Thanks for reading, sorry for any typos. -Taryn(:_


	10. Magic

_**Chapter 10- "Magic"**_

_**(Past)**_

"Here's the thing: we need to find a way into the Deep Roads. Bartrand can lead us to the right place when we're down there, but we need a good entrance."

I watched him pace across the other side of the table. I picked at a seam on my robe's sleeve, the conversation from before was at the forefront of my attention. This one just seemed dual in comparison. "Doesn't that seem like an important factor for the expedition?"

He gruffs out a laugh. Glad someone sees my sarcasm. I fight a small smile as he leans forward onto the table. "Well fortunately," his tone is like a purr, it soothes my frayed nerves a little. "I've received some new information. There's a Grey Warden in the city-"

"_What!" _

Varric leaped back at my sudden exclamation. I couldn't stop myself, the shock that ran through my entire body. My thoughts jammed to a stop and my entire body flinched back away from this crucial information.

_What was he saying!_

Did he mean me? Was this some ambush? I whipped around my head, checking to see if there were men hiding in the shadows. I drew in a shaky breath as Varric looked over to me in concern.

No.. no he couldn't know. He didn't know.. it- he must have really meant another Grey Warden was here... in Kirkwall. Where I'm hiding..

"Who?" I demand, before I can stop myself. I needed to know. Was it a foreigner? Was it someone from the Keep? I leaned over the table this time, smacking my hands down onto it. "How do you know this?"

My heart was ramming around in my chest. It was relentless. Not even the fright of seeing Bodahan made my nerves split like this. There was an underlying anger there too, an anger that this one fact could have me fleeing the city this very night.

"Supposedly.. this Warden came over to the Free Marches not too long ago with a bunch of Fereldan refugees." I felt myself die a little on the inside: _He's Fereldan. _"A Low Town woman named Lirene has been helping a lot of Fereldan refugees. I figured, we talk to her and we might find out where he is."

"_He?" _

Varric looked a bit uncomfortable by the stain on my face. "Yes, he. There aren't many women in the Grey Warden's, you know."

My anger, the one that I never understood, that hasn't gripped me too terribly since my leave from Fereldan, lashed out. I felt like slapping Varric, my hand tingled to just close that foot of distance and deliver it sharply. But I couldn't. I clenched my jaw and, although shaking, I pulled my fist away from the table and took two steps back.

He didn't mean to insult me. He didn't know I was a female, mage Warden.

I was now regretful of not following Carver. I swallow tightly, and I tried – I tried so hard – to reel in my temper. But it didn't matter, my voice was still viciously hissed when I spoke.

"I see. Do you know this Warden's name? Don't you know they are dangerous? Do you really want trouble from them?" I tried to pawn this anger off as me being upset by the fact that Varric was challenging something he shouldn't. "They are a group that-"

"I'll be the first to admit that I don't want to fight a Grey Warden, not unless we have to. We have to look at our options, Ceala." He was using a stronger voice, willing me to hear and to calm.

I tried. Using my fake name helped a surprising amount. I took in a long breath and forced my weak knees to bend. I fell into one of the chairs at the table and propped my elbows up on my knees, burying my face into my hands. This position just felt right.. _comfortable_.

It was silent for a long span of time and then I heard his footsteps pace around the table. I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. I tensed. I remember when in the beginning of my quest of the Blight I had been so surprised to see so much touching. Almost like Morrigan. The comrade like pats on the back that Alistair had for everyone, the kisses Leliana put on each of everyone's cheeks, Oghren hanging off of people's shoulders, the lingering touches of Zevran's fingers. In the tower I knew only tag as a form of touching. I was innocent.. I was oblivious..

_God, my thoughts wonder._

But the anger was fading, my shock melted away to leave only a hallow shell of anxiety that was waiting to collapse. Whoever this Grey Warden was I knew I've never seen them. I only knew a few foreign ones, of Alistair, of a female one that helped me man the Keep. I knew there were others I was suppose to meet sometime, but I ran off before that happened...

I look back up at Varric, prepared to lie through my teeth.

"I'm sorry, you took me off guard," I deflated a bit. "I had a big surprise today already and Carver has had me so stressed.. forgive me for my reaction. I just never expected to hear that and with my past trouble with the Blight in my homeland.."

"I understand," Varric mumbles, lifting away his hand and watching me as I stand back up. "I'll just keep after my contacts in case you are in need of any more work I can drum up for you."

"Thanks," I say fleetingly, moving towards the door. I needed to get Carver and run home before anyone else could take me by surprise and cause the finally heart attack that kills me. "I'll see you around."

I run from the door and then skid down the steps. I spot Carver by the bar, talking loudly with a drink in his hand. He had a bunch of other, slightly more drunk, lads surrounding him and I hastened over.

"Why! If it isn't my favorite little cousin," Carver exclaims as I draw near. I try not to look disgusted by the leering, smelling men at his side.

I put money on the bar for the barman and take Carver by the wrist. "I'm your sister, Carver. Remember?" I say, forcing my words to be calm and patient when all I really wanted to do was jump back in bed and pretend that I never have to get back out. But I have so much to do. I _still _have to deliver this necklace but the daylight has wasted away. I shudder to think what elves would do with a shem that comes in by night.

"No, mo-mother said you were my cousin!" Carver slurs back, almost like a kid who didn't want to be told wrong. He must have drunk more then I thought. I grit my teeth and tighten my hand around his wrist, without too much gusto I sent a wave of cold flaring across his flesh.

He yelped.

"I'm telling!" he cried and I let my face fall into a unamused scowl. I've had enough of this. Watching after Carver was not what I ever wanted. Watching a depressed, grief stricken Carver get drunk.. even worse. I threw his hand from mine and turned around.

"Fine! I'm going home, I hope no one mugs you out on the streets when you're too drunk to find your way there!"

I strutted towards the door. I've had enough for one day, I don't think I could handle more. This is like the Blight almost, more problems of other's piling on to me. As if absolutely everyone _must _come to me for their problems. Except now, in Kirkwall it is becoming increasingly clear that I'm starting to feel my own personal problems gather up.

Carver stumbled after me.

_Andraste's knickers! _

"Gamlen- Gam-" he sounded like he was trying to say something. I spun around on my heels, my palm against the door to outside. I watched him halt right in front of me, a drink still in hand and spilling onto the dirty floor.

My mind kept wanting to worry about the Grey Warden. I tried to force that back for another day, I still had days before the expedition would start. My current problem was Carver.

Reluctantly I took the drink from his hand and tossed it at a nearby table. It shattered, but no one was going to care. As much as he protested I grabbed one of his arms and tossed it around my shoulders as I heaved us out the door and into the cooling evening.

I couldn't leave him.

"I ha-hate that," Carver hiccuped. His breath reeked of alcohol and I could have only been with Varric for twenty minutes, tops. He must have spent all his money downing as many drinks as he could. He was going to be vomiting all night and morning.

"Hate what?" I patronized, my tone dead. I started down the next alley towards the slums, except by the way I limped and it took us a minute to cover a five foot radiance I knew a silent walk was impossible to wish for.

"You.. in charge. You are just l-like Mel-linaa she was always o-outdoing me."

His older sister. I forgot about her, the one that died. I tried remembering if he ever mentioned her before, but I realized no one has.

Then I recalled his first statement.

"Me too, Carver. I hate that too." I hadn't wanted to lead Alistair, but he insisted. I didn't like it when people kept pushing me forward, kept egging me to take their place and be in charge. It was pestering, it was infuriating.. it was almost like someone has forced my whole destiny.

My throat suddenly felt thick with emotion. The weight of Carver leaning on me was almost suffocating. I wanted to run, I wanted to be away from the towering buildings of Low Town and breathing my own air that was not soiled with alcohol.

But I sucked it up. I had a choice and I choose _not _to leave Carver out here alone and defenseless. I choose not to run from the Hawke's and grit my teeth as the slum houses came into view.

I hauled him up the stairs and shouldered inside the house.

The fire was roaring and Gamlen stood there in front of it, him and Leandra arguing.

_Yes! Yes, more tension, more fighting! _

My face was as hard as stone, no lines shown it was so mirthless.

I pushed a drunken Carver into a chair and he went down easily, neither of the older beings even looked across. Carver cringed at the sound of his mother's shrill voice.

"The children have been in servitude! _Servitude!_ They should be nobility." I questioned her mention of 'they', considering the lack of attention she seemed to be giving me. I felt like she's been avoiding me.

"If wishes were poppies, we'd all be dreaming," Gamlen sneers back. I set myself against the arm of the chair, crossing my arms over my chest.

I really hate people.

"This is the way things are, Leandra. Gamlen can't change it now," I say earnestly, trying to placate them.

They don't want to be. Gamlen bristles with annoyance. "Your mother!" he exclaims and I raise an eyebrow, because he was looking right at me when he said that. "Was suppose to marry the Decoune Ser Lontay and instead she ran off with some random Fereldan, along with Leandra here too!"

What did he just say? Was _he_ drunk too?

I leaned closer to him, still sitting on the arm of the chair. Cautiously my arms wound around my torso, hugging me in anticipation. My hair stood on end; something was going on.

_Something is always going on. _

The past three months have been agonizing in this household, as much as I wish I could deny it. Carver is always whispering with his mother. Me and him are constantly at odds, while Gamlen and I are always fighting about boundaries. Leandra has refused to look me in the face for weeks.

"What are you talking about?"

"My point is that you," his eyes swung around to Leandra, "don't get to stay the favorite when you do _that_."

Leandra threw her hands down, curling into fists. "My sister freed me from a life of loveless marriage! I found my own Fereldan in time, and I loved _him_. No matter that he was an apostate. Mother would have understood, she had to. Father," her voice broke off in a weak way, before starting again. "Where is father's will? If I could just see for myself.."

"Now just wait one moment!" I shout, jumping to me feet. The two swing their gazes to me. "What in the world are you talking about?"

My over loaded mind struggled to catch up with everything that has been lodged into it today. It sort of felt like when I first took the lead and I had just settled the thought of the loss of all my leaders, of the sudden terrible burden I just got shoved onto me. And then Alistair turned around and told me about his royal blood.. one more thing that jumped onto my back.

This was just another 'one more thing'. I could handle it. The Hero of Fereldan can handle any family dispute.

… _maybe. _

"I-I told you," Carver grumbled from his chair and I hissed at him to shut up. He fell silent easily but Leandra bore her eyes around me and straight at her son.

"You told her what? I told you _not _to tell her!"

Carver merely casts his face to the side, lulling his eyes shut. It was a show of defeat.

I fought to understand. What had he told me? I couldn't come up with anything really, my mind was too caught up with Varric and Bodahan to even remember anything he would have told me.

Instead of turning to the unreliable Leandra, I looked to Gamlen. I fixed him with an icy glare that actually brought a few icy pricks of cold sparking from my fingertips. My magic was surging free. I haven't used it all day and I felt it build just like my stress.

"Look, I wanted to tell you, but Leandra... she wanted to keep it to herself."

"I didn't want to hurt her!" Leandra cried and I shook my head at her, raising a hand and waving her off.

"Tell me, Gamlen."

He swallowed visibly. "I'm- We're.. we're actually your aunt and uncle, for certain not as some disguise. Leandra figured it the minute we got in Kirkwall and she heard you tell Carver your real last name."

My eyebrows furrowed, my tension lessened. "I'm... not following."

He sighs, rubbing his head. "You're Tera Amell." I resist that urge to correct him and instead I nod curtly. "Well, the facts of the Hero of Fereldan aren't very widely known. At least not the _truth_. People know her names Tera, but some call her by different names. Some still think you're a man. Some know you're a mage, other think you are a warrior. What I'm saying is.. we weren't sure if it was really _you_, Tera, who was the Hero before this, before they ever even dreamed of leaving Fereldan."

"Okay.."

Leandra shook her head sadly. "Tera, please believe me when I say that I _tried_ to help you.."

I gave her a look. I didn't understand was she meant.

"Not yet, Leandra. Let me get to that part!" Gamlen hissed and then sat down on the only other chair. I reluctantly lowered myself onto the arm of the chair again. "In the Amell family, there were three heirs. I was the youngest and the son, while the two older ones were daughters; Leandra and Amelia. Amelia was always the rebel child, she loved to run and break things and stir trouble. _Leandra," _he gave his sister a bleak look. "Liked to follow her. The two of them were father's favorites, until Amelia was found with a Fereldan stable boy..."

I looked between Leandra and Gamlen tensely. I didn't know what they were getting at. I think I may have been able to know.. if I wanted to think about it. But I decided not to. I knew we had the same last name.. but I just assumed it was a common name to have.

"Before that in two weeks time Amelia was suppose to marry and as was Leandra. But they ran off, before they could even be punished. Rumor had it, Amelia was pregnant."

Leandra scoffed. "You _know_ she was. Don't add needlessness to your story."

Gamlen just shrugged her off and continued. "Amelia was pregnant when she left and in the following two years, my mother received a letter from our very own Leandra..." His gaze raised to Leandra and almost on cue she began to finish this little story.

"I wrote and told them about how I found my own love, like my sister. I told them of my new husband and about how he fights to be good, as an apostate. I didn't care if they were appalled. _I_ have never resented magic. I wrote to them about my expected child that year; Melina."

"Tell her about what you said at the end of it."

Leandra sent me a pitying look. "I told them of their granddaughter, Tera. I told them about your birth and the first few months of your life..."

"And?" I press, when she paused. I almost bought it, but I still wasn't getting it all.

"And about on the fourth month where she showed signs of being a mage."

The words were rushed out, they were unwanted on her tongue.

They were what I have been waiting for her to say.

"What happened to my parents?" I whisper. I've never known my parents, I have never known anyone of my bloodline. I only knew my last name because when I was older in the Circle the Templars told me what it was. I never knew it meant anything, I never even wondered around finding them.

But here they were. Not my parents, but family. Blood relatives, living with me. I couldn't believe it. Was it luck or fate? Wasn't Flemeth laughing at me about something along those lines? I pursed my lips, waiting for an answer.

"They left."

"Left?" I breathe.

Leandra nods sadly. "They left you out in the streets to die in the cold."

I coiled away from the hurtful words. "What?"

"They didn't.. _want _you." Oh, gee just slap me with your hand, why don't you? "They thought you were a monster waiting to happen. I couldn't believe what Amelia was saying to me that day. We were staying in the same cottage we always had and she was watching you crawling across the ground with the most disgusted look on her face. I was still young then, this was before I met my husband. But you father had been packing all day and your mother was telling me that we were going to leave, away from Fereldan." She paused to take a long breath. "And how they were going to leave you behind."

I stared at her evenly. I refused to give into the pain howling in my chest. The rejection _stung_. But I swallowed it back. These were people I didn't know. They were parents that were never there, why should I care?

"I couldn't leave you there. I saw the baby that you were, not an abomination like them. They never understood magic and they left after me and Amelia had a long fight over you and your innocence. In the end I was left to raise you. But I was still so young and alone, with no money. I tried to help you, but we were slowly starving to death and I couldn't bring you into the city without the risk of the Circle. I had heard how terrible those places are. But in the end.. I couldn't. I thought the Circle was better then starving or freezing to death."

"You put me in the Circle?"

"I wanted you to live."

I felt hallow, like this blew everything else of today away. This was a major blow, yet fit perfectly. I felt like they ripped a rug out from under my feet. "Where are my parents now?"

Gamlen barked out a laugh. "No one has heard from them in seventeen years."

"Oh." The word fell off my tongue emotionlessly. They really didn't matter much...

I lifted my gaze to Leandra. I wasn't angry like she seemed to think I would be. I wasn't upset or on the verge of tears.. I was empty.

"Tell me the rest of the story," I murmur, softly. I wanted to know how her life came to be. I could see a flourished amount of laugh lines about her eyes and lips.

"In the few months after that, I'd come to be a person who stood up for mages. I found a job in a local inn and I started boasting about the injustice of this sort of prejudice. After a few months, where I started to get back up on my feet, I met a man, half starving hanging by the dumpsters behind the inn. He turned out to be an apostate. I nursed him back to health.. and fell in love. I married him, took all y money and we ran off. The same year I fell pregnant. I missed home, wrote mother and never received a reply."

I nodded, looking over at Carver. He was passed out already. I listened to his sighing snores. "And three years later, Carver came along?"

Leandra nods. "And a year after that Bethany came. I always regretted letting you go, never talking to you again. I thought you would blame me. I never told my husband about you, but when I had Bethany.. she became.. the favorite. I couldn't show her enough love, I knew deep down I was trying to redeem myself for what I did to you. I couldn't stand the thought of losing her and then she was lost to that-that dragon, but you were there. I hadn't realized it was you until later, but it-"

"I understand."

"Do you?"

I struggled to find the right words. "I'm... I'm _glad_ for what you did." I reached a hand towards her and she stumbled closer, both of hers clasping around mine. "You saved me, even with the Circle. I learned how to control my magic. And to think?" There was a dry humor in my voice. "If I wasn't there to recruit.. then who would have saved Fereldan from the Blight?"

She let out a half laugh and half sob. Then she broke and fell into me, hugging me and clinging me to her chest. "Oh, Tera! You are just so- so strong. I can't believe what a beautiful woman you have grown in-into, your mother would be so proud! Think-think of of the look on her face if she found out what a great, powerful person you grew into. _She _should feel a fool!"

I held my arms out and away from her body awkwardly, trying not to fall of the arm of the chair. I sent a frantic look to Gamlen, but he just sniffed in the other direction. I patted her shoulder and then she pulled back, to my relief.

I let out a long breath. "I-I think I'm going to just go to bed now."

"Okay, Maker bless your dreams Tera..."

"_Ceala," _I correct sharply and then I fled the room, before she could grab me again. I slammed the door closed and then paused to lean into the wood on the opposite side. I struggled to draw in even breaths.

I closed my eyes from the room and tried to picture some peaceful place. Someplace where things don't like to jump on my back and take me off course. Those things that like to stab my back and divulge my heart right out of its chest.

I struggled to my bed and tossed aside my clothing. I felt a heat burning in the back of my eyes, picturing my mother and father. But I fought them back, when another savage wave of anger rolled into my body. I threw my staff at the nearest wall, watching it bounce off and crash to the ground with a loud ruckus.

Magic was the enemy!

It has always been.. why hadn't I seen this before?

Alistair rejected me because I was magical! My parent's left me, they tried to let me die in the damned streets for Andraste's sakes! They did it because I was a mage.

The Circle was right.. magic is the _enemy_.

Maybe that is why I was so angry all the damn time. Maybe the magic influenced me away from my path, maybe it wanted me to throw things, maybe it was the reason I would be vicious and I could not stop myself. Something's gone terribly wrong with me... and it's the magic.

When have I ever met a decent mage? When have I not seen one fall to the corrupted? _How could I forget the disgusting, brutal fall of Fereldan's Circle? _

The realizations came in waves of despair, each one weakening me just a little more then the last. My thoughts brought the heat back, it made the surging magic feel like poison, like an unwanted taint. I willed it away.

I willed so hard, it began to hurt. I pictured the magic burning, burning out of my blood and before I knew what I was really doing I felt a heat sear across the surface of my skin.

I cried out, softly, falling to my knees. I retracted the fire immediately.

Then I felt another heat, crawling down my cheeks and out of my eyes.

_Why couldn't I be normal? _

Both my parents weren't mages. The man I loved wasn't a mage.. he had been a Templar for Makers-

Alistair must have realized that I was nothing more then a creature of impending destruction. Maybe that's why he loved Kina now. It hurt so much knowing she was better then me. It ached inside of me, inside of this emptiness I felt. I was not even good enough for him.

I began to sob. I couldn't stop the tears and I crawled myself into bed. I curled into the covers and cried myself to sleep.

I don't want to be Tera Amell. No one _wants_ Tera Amell.

I wanna be Kina, with Alistair at her side and a rich family standing behind her, backing her up.

I wanna be normal...

I want to be _Ceala Hawke_. I want to forget.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **I don't know about you, but **I **distinctively remember that the furtue her, mentions that she blamed the anger on something else before, something that she way later realizes is not true. (I just thought to mention in case you forgot!) And THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED! Love from Fenris to all as well. I suddenly LOVE writing this story and I can't wait for more reviews so I can get started on the next chapter! Thanks for reading, sorry for typos! (OH! And now you see how I cleared up the whole 'cousin' thing.) *OPPS SORRY GUYS! There have been some slight changes of age! Edited in the last chapter! -Taryn(: _


	11. The News

_**Chapter 10- "The News"**_

_**(Future!)**_

We were gathered in The Hanging Man. Varric had us a nice secluded table in the back, near the fire. I careened towards the warmth. It was still wearing away winter here in Kirkwall and I was grateful for the flames.

At my side was Varric and Merrill. He was rummaging around in a pack of his. Across me was Fenris, and beside him was Isabelle. The exotic, tan skinned pirate had a deck of cards twirling between her fingers as she shuffled.

This was a common thing for us; meeting up every now and then to play cards and drink.

Except the tension was like a heavy gas hanging in the air. I know I wasn't the only one who felt it. Fenris wasn't meeting my gaze. We actually haven't met gazes in... months... nearly three years. Not since the break up. The brutal one where I had done a lot of yelling, and he had his own spout of things to share as well.

"What you got in there Varric?" Isabelle purrs, indicating her chin towards the pack he had. She leaned across the table. Her bosoms hanging out, the firelight licking across them in a manner I could not have ignored if I were a mere man.

I look to Fenris and find him staring at the lerium tattoos on his hands.

"Brought something special," Varric grunted, with drawling a bottle of thick emerald green liquid.

It is like no liquor I have ever seen before. "What is it?" I ask, my mouth going slowly dry.

His lips curve into a roguish smile. "A bit of the green fairy. She's a most congenial mistress, I think you'll find."

I'm still confused.

"Absinthe," Isabelle laughs, her own devilish smile appearing. I don't know whether to laugh or cry just yet. I cautiously proceed to listen to her talk. "The drink of artists and madmen. Some say," she gave me and Fenris leering looks, "the green fairy lives in a glass of absinthe, and she spirits you away to her lair where all manner of strange and beautiful things can be seen. Would you like to try living in two worlds at once?"

I snort dryly. Try living as two _people_ at once.

"Oh," Merrill says, worried. "I think perhaps not for me. I'm a bit weak with alcohol." Her big innocent eyes mirror my own hesitation.

"I wish to try absinthe," Fenris says, and his deep rich voice scrapes against my nerves, making them tingle worse then before.

The tension suffocated me. I _don't _wish to absinthe. Well, perhaps a bit – if I could be certain how it would affect me. I'm afraid to stay at all. I honestly haven't shown up to one of these things sober in over eight months, usually I'll go off and get drunk with Isabella first, while Varric proceeds to rob us of our money in cards.

Now I'm sober and I should have known it wouldn't have turned out just fine and dandy as I had hoped. I don't want to leave though.

These are my friends. I felt hearty around them, whole and not lost. Even with the tension and pain of Fenris. It didn't change the fact that I've known them all for over a little more then half a decade. I loved them. I loved Isabelle's spirit. Varric's ability to make me grin and all his stories. Merrill, though we got off on the wrong foot and me and Fenris _still _fight about her, I loved her too.

My heart was like a glass, brimming and teetering full with it, until it could no longer contain the love. It spilt across my body, like a warmth that branded into my skin and I would never forget them. My heart was overflowing with emotion towards these people.

They were my family, even after I lost all my other family. For some part of me, they were _more_ then my old companions. Those same ones I have not seen in so long, those ones I had only known one messily year. Somehow, sitting with them in the bar made them seem more important.

I don't want to leave.. I don't want to be a party crasher.

"I'd like to try it too," I croak.

"An adventurous spirit," Isabelle says, smiling at me. "That's what I love."

Reaching in his pack again, Varric brings out a flat, slotted spoon. He grabs Merrill's half a glass of water and he sets the glass in front of him. He places the strange spoon over the cup's opening. With graceful fingers, he reaches into his pocket and retrieves a cube of sugar, which he perches atop the spoon.

"Interesting style," Isabelle compliments.

"What is that for?" I ask.

"To take away the bitterness of the wormwood."

I don't understand why this mystifies me, but it is definitely not routine. Something in my stomach tells me this isn't going to end well. I don't know how but it has nothing to do with Fenris. I just know it doesn't, but it is hard to believe with the tension strangling me.

Thick as tree sap, green as summer grass, the absinthe flows over the sugar, dissolving it on its relentless way. Inside the glass, a beautiful alchemy is taking place. The green swirls into a milky white from the water. It is extraordinary.

"How does it do that?" Merrill asks.

Varric and Isabelle look up at each other the same second, then grin over at _me. _

"_Magic," _they say.

I try not to scowl.

"Let's see if it is," I say, reaching for the glass. Varric holds it away, hands it to Fenris.

"Ladies first," he says.

Now me and Isabelle let out a loud bark of laughter. Fenris looks as if he could punch Varric, but as not to goad I try to hold back my grin after a few seconds. He takes one long swig, then finally his eyes meet mine.

I felt my stomach drop through feet. His eyes were an even more delicious green then the absinthe. He holds the glass to me and my hands shakes as I take it. I half expect this strange drink to turn me into a frog. It's hard to know if I can trust Varric always and though I looked Fenris up and down through narrowed eyes, there is still no obvious effect.

The smell is intoxicating, like licorice spiced with nutmeg. I have a bad feeling about this, but Fenris is still looking at me and I toss it back, swallowing some, burning my throat as it goes.

The moment I finish Isabelle grabs it from me and drinks her share. She offers it to Merrill who takes the tiniest of sips. At last it goes to Varric, who takes his turn and passes it to Fenris again.

The glass makes the same round, three times more, until it's empty.

"I don't feel much different," Merrill says, as we watch Varric replace it back into his pack.

"That is because you didn't take more than a sip," Isabelle murmurs, dealing out cards to us. "I feel quite.. delicious."

I think I know what she means. There's a sweet warmth in my head, a lightness that makes it seem as if all is well and no harm can come to me. I smile at Isabelle, no longer upset about anything. No tension, no nothing. There was a murky place in my mind that held swirls of distress, but I skipped over it entirely, enjoying the evening.

"Let's play some cards why don't we?" Varric slurs and I snort at this, because it seemed entirely hilarious. I pick up the cards, but I can't quite tear my eyes from Isabelle's.. her pupils as large as moons.

"You look beautiful," she says, pulling across the table again.

Merrill giggles.

"So do you," I say back. I can't stop smiling.

"What about me?" Fenris asks, sounding put out.

"Yes," I say, feeling lighter by the second. I felt like hugging Varric for giving me this. It was like a cure, I couldn't feel anything but warmth. I could not even begin to grasp the magic inside my blood. The love seemed to double inside of me instead and as I lift my eyes back to Fenris, I'm rendered breathless. "You are irresistible."

His face seemed transformed. The colors deeper, the lightness hazier. The absinthe melts into fire that races through my veins like gossip swarming in the city, like the wings of a thousand angels, like a whisper of the most delicious secret I have ever held.

Around me the room turned into blurs of color; of sound and motion. The _swish, stumble _of the drunk's walking, as their blurring bodies melt into the greens and browns, silvers, and burgundies of the fire across the shadowed walls.

My eyes fell wet and beautiful. It is the first time in a long time I've felt desirable. And looking at Fenris, I could not think. My mouth was swollen, and all I could do was smile like this is all I ever wanted.

His face was handsome, more then handsome. There was no way I could make my words say just how beguiling the man was to me. The strong jaw, his pink alluring lips still damp from the absinthe. The blue of the lerium seemed to beg my fingers to trace their ancient, forbidding beauty.

My fingers can't see to quite hold onto the cards. I lift my eyes towards he others and find that Isabelle and Varric are no longer there. They are out into the fuzz of colors, dancing, spiraling. I hear Merrill laughing at them, and I suddenly want to join them.

I stand, with effort. Dizzy, I stumbled around the table and my hand reaches for something of purchase. My hand falls into the broad expanses of Fenris' chest. My fingers curl around the metal of his armor, it was cold, but I could feel the heat of his skin reaching through it.

"Steady there," he says. "Are you alright?"

I smile up at him. _Oh, yes, quite. I cannot speak or feel my body, but I am absolutely lovely – please leave me here. _I smile until my face feels as if it might split. _I have never felt better in my whole life. _

The pain of losing my aunt – banished. The loss and hurt of watching Carver cart away mages – dissolved. The failure of Fenris for an absurd reason – down into the murky forgetfulness that I wish never to divulge into. The long overgrown homesickness toward Fereldan – vanished.

I try to move around him, but my fingers don't want to listen to me, they won't uncurl from his armor. I cannot seem to figure out how to get around this or what to do about it. This strike me as funny as well and I let off a small trill of laughter.

"Steady there," Fenris repeats, an arm of his winding around my waist.

I should be alarmed. But I'm not. I should push him away, but I don't. The pressure of his arm brings my senses back a bit. The heat of the fire is just a few inches to my right and it draws my strength. My head feels heavy on my neck. I dearly wish that his fingers would stop moving like that, in small circles that make me feel weak in the knees.

I was laughing again, almost nervously. It was a new sound to me. Me.. nervous. I had one hand on his chest and somehow my fingers found their way perched on his jaw. They begged to trace the lines of the lerium, arching down his neck in some cold, icy blue exquisiteness that made me ache. I was smiling too.

He wasn't smiling back, but I saw that spark in his eyes. Those beautiful green eyes that I've always adored. The laughter of my other friends; Merrill amused by our high behavior, Varric's booming chortle, Isabelle's playful purr.

This was so out of character, yet did it matter? Did this one night of fun, matter in the whole of things? It has been so long since I could smile like this.

"Oh come on, Fenris," something that sounds like my voice says, and it was full of rejoice. The absinthe was zinging through my blood, warming me and giving me a courage I haven't had in a long while.

He didn't draw back, like I have always thought he would. I don't know if it is the drink or something else but I'm suddenly sinking into myself, and I have no wish to stop. It's as if I have no will of my own. After that brutal break up.. after all those times I yelled at him and him me. His face lowered. He was going to kiss me.

A fire, a familiar fire that he always was responsible for ravished to life. It burned inside of me, in my lower belly. It made me hunger for him, it made me want to clutch him to my chest and never let go.

Instead, I was unable to move, I couldn't find my arms. I felt panic, but it quickly sank away as I marveled at the look of his skin in the firelight. His face softened, it was just a breath away.

I smiled, and I _know _he was going to smile back.

But it never happened, it was interrupted by the door of The Hanging Man flying open and crashing into the back wall with excess force. Fenris, one of the most sober, was on his turning on his feet that very second, and he never dropped my hand. Instead, with a whirling that I could only describe as breathless he tugged me around the table and behind his back.

"I need to see the Champion!"

Me. That's me... right? I strain to find some levelness. I heard Fenris growling under her breath, but I couldn't see around his back. I felt a cold wind sweep into the room, it gripped me in full, the iciness sinking into my shell of warmth.

The bad feeling was back.

"It's a bit late, don't you think?" Fenris says, his voice boomed inside my mind.

Think? I can't think. I try to move around Fenris, to see who wanted me, but it was no use. His fingers on my wrist were too tight. There voice is familiar in one way, but strange in another. It mixed into the hustle of the bar as the startled people begin to settle back into their seats.

"It is urgent," the same voice from before says, and I know I know it. It was there on the tip of my tongue. It made my mind feel excited. I liked this person, it was a male voice.. "I need to talk to her in private, _now_."

Isabelle came stumbling over to me, around my side of the table and she hung around my shoulder. She nearly pulled me to the floor, putting all her weight on me. Fenris lost grip and she veered me to the left and juts before one of my hands hurriedly grasped the edge of the table I found myself looking up at Cullen.

"Cullen," I gasp out, feeling woozy. "W-What are you doing here?" The words were fumbling off my dry tongue, my muscles shook from supporting both mine and Isabelle's weight.

I shall never try absinthe ever again.

Fenris shoves her off of me, looking a bit afraid I might collapse. I try to show him a grateful smile, but I can't look away from Cullen.

His face was grave. His eyes were pitiful and panicked. Something was wrong, very wrong. I reached towards the wall on my left, meaning to lead us into Varric's private room, when I nearly fell again. The Templar rushed to my side, taking a trembling hand.

I motioned towards the stairs and he helped pull me up them effortlessly. My friends sank away, into the mush of my mind. The warmth began to fade, if only a little. The pulse of it in my blood, turns into an ache beside my temples.

When he has me seated on the edge of Varric's bed, and I braced my hands onto my knees there is a moment of levelheadedness. He cleared his throat, hovering close encase I need support.

I was mortified. Showing such weakness, showing that I was some sort of drunk. I wanted to explain to him that I only had a little of this special stuff, that I wasn't an ale addict, but the words weren't forming quite right.

"Maybe.. maybe you should lay back.. or something," Cullen murmurs nervously.

I shake my head, screwing my eyes shut hoping that when I opened them again that the room would stop spinning. "Just tell me."

"A-Are you sure, Tera.."

"_Ceala. _How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"

"Once more," he seemed to cough. Then he reached down and touched my shoulder. I tried to pull away, I was quickly trying to grasp myself and his touching didn't help. It was strange for him, it was not something he would do normally. Cullen and I were mutual friends. We do not touch, or think about it. Mostly because of all those years in the Circle when Templars weren't even allowed in a two foot radiance of the female mages. I had been that female mage and him that Templar.

So why now? Why touch me like this?

The answer made my stomach squirm, the fire from before buried away and locked up.

"I have heard news. News from Fereldan," Oh, Maker give me strength. My eyes opened to look up at his face and he frowned down at me. My stomach jerked uncomfortably, my head ached worse. I didn't feel good, I thought I might be sick. Slowly, my arms wound around my abdomen as Cullen struggled to find the right words.

"Just say it," I croak, my throat tightening with a gag. The absinthe left a nauseating taste on the back of my tongue.

"King Alistair is coming to Kirkwall."

My head drops forward, my hair falling from behind my shoulders and I vomit on his shoes.

A fiery red blush works into my cheeks, but my whole body has gone rigid. I don't pull my head back up, but Cullen rushes to get my hair away from my face and slides me onto the other side of the bed. There he drops to his knees in front of me. He doesn't look upset, I wanted to say sorry... but.. but-

"You're lying."

He shakes his head sadly. "No, it is true I made sure of it before I came."

I feel an emotion rush over me, a few black spots cloud my vision. My head feels ehco-y, strange for a few minutes and then it snaps all back. My stomach still gurgles, but now it aches for food, for substance to pull into my bloodstream.

My head _pounds_.

"I-I.." I couldn't grasp what he was telling me. I heard Alistair.. I heard Kirkwall, but the words didn't push together well in my mind or my heart.

"I can have a ship for you to Orlais by the dawn, Alistair won't be arriving until early evening. It is said he is eager to meet the Champion, I had a feeling you wouldn't want that.." he talks fast, like he wishes to rip the bandage off clean and quick.

And there goes my life. I can feel it slipping away, slithering from my grasp. All that warmth and friendship just gone. Disappearing in the sight of my sudden savage fear of being found. Dissolving just like the drink had pulled away my upsets.

All these years, away and happy. Away and _free. _Fenris helped me learn what it truly meant to be free. Free from those who hurt you, free from those who you could never lay a hand on no matter how hard you tried. Whether for my love, in my case or by force, in his.. it was all the same.

_Helpless_.

I feel my head trying to slow back down, drink this in, but it buzzes like an overworked machine. I can't even place my magic, it is haywire in my blood. If someone tried to kill me now I wouldn't even be able to conjure a defensive spell.

Why now! Why, when I am at my weakest? I knew I shouldn't have done this. Any of this.. it was still up for a answer. The question; if it was the best or worst decision of my life to leave Denerim.

A ringing fills my ears as a anger suddenly unfurls in me, casting a shadow of my heart. _Alistair was coming._ Alistair was going to drive me from _another_ nation. He was going to rip me away from another group of friends that I loved!

"I don't want to go to Orlais, it's too hot. Leliana told me it was full of shopping; I hate shopping." My voice sounds so dead, yet shakes with so much rage I'm not sure it's really mine.

My eyes stare at the wall, imagining the last time I saw Alistair's face. He was blushing, looking at the Arl with a hand in his hair. I couldn't quite sketch out the exact frame of his jaw or eyes, but I knew they were blue. He's faded into the long lost memory, but in the darkness of my anger he seems to live and grow.

I suddenly jumped to my feet. I shoved Cullen away from me and I strutted across the room. The remaining drink in me, was mostly on the floor with my vomit. The rest causes the ache in my bones. The magic is still tangled into knots. I wished to act out, throw a tantrum, but I was half thankful that I couldn't.

I just wanted to run.

It was always the back up plan. I always fell onto it.

So I did.

I pushed passed the bar. I shoved Fenris away when he swooped forward to apologize or some nonsense. I ran from the Cullen that yipped at my heels. I pushed Varric with my tingling fingers, right into a drunk Isabelle.

I pushed through other dancers. Other laughing couples. Their laughter mocked me. There was happiness everywhere. Lust everywhere! There was only people, joyous for days to come, for the years and their life to move forward and prosper.

While I was only pulled back.

I could not move forward. No matter how much I ran!

I pushed through the bar door, and fled into the chilly night. I was desperate for the cold air inundating my lungs. I was frantic for coverage. I sprinted down the empty streets, stumbling in my run.

Every step was a nightmare.

Every step was a step too late.

Every step was one great thrust backwards.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **I thought I'd jump forward to another angsty moment. (Just so you know, that stuff is real and gets you high! Not that I tried it, it's called research.) I hope you enjoyed it! I even gave you a little Tera and Fenris moment! Thanks for reading, sorry for typos, please review! -Taryn(: _


	12. A Traded Treasure

_**Chapter 10- "A Traded Treasure"**_

_**(Past)**_

I was awakened by the sound of hinges screeching together and a loud _thud _as the door swung against the back wall. I sat up in a sweeping motion, rolling out of my bed and catching myself at a crouch on to the cold floor.

My mind though, didn't catch up so quickly to the old physical reaction to anything that goes bump in the night.

My eyes only caught a blur of Carver running into the room, snatching a bucket next to the desk and violently vomiting into it. I wrinkled my nose in distastes, clawing myself back into the bed and away from the frigid ground. I hid under the blankets, barreling back into them as Carver continued to retch.

This is why I don't drink.

"Ever heard of knocking?" I mutter sleepily, rubbing my eyes sadly. They felt thick and uncomfortable from the tears last night. It has been a long time since the last time I cried. I did not cry the whole time Alistair left me, and I think last nights break down had been a part of that built up depression.

"E-Ever heard of the morning," Carver weakly replies between gags.

I gave no response. Instead I curled around myself and reached out of the blanket, my fingers extending towards the floor.. reaching..

Ah!

I snatched my pack up and slithered it underneath the blanket with me. I cradle it between my knees and chest and dug around it quickly. I don't know why, but I had a dream last night...

A dream that was less violent then most. It was not the same one, where I'm battling through Darkspawn, slowly being overpowered. Nor is it the terror of that moment on the roof over and over again, when the Archdemon cut open my chest.

It was a less violent, but equally saddening dream. I hadn't dreamed of this moment in so many months, and seeing all their faces again.. it was enlightening. I honestly didn't think I remembered them so well.

My fingers met a thin, delicate chain and I fished it out of the bag, before kicking it back out of my bed and squinting down at the necklace. Well it was actually a oath pendant that is received after a joining to the Grey Wardens.

It was painful to me now, but in the dream, it was so bitter sweet. It was just there, on the tip of my tongue and his voice! Alistair's voice was the same as it always was, his face was just so handsome. My mind even conjured up a perfect replica of Duncan. Even those other men that I couldn't name, I remembered their faces.. though I did not like remembering the way they died.. it was still better then most of my dreams.

I sniffed a little, remembering back then. My hands toyed with the necklace for a long while, until I heard Carver stand up and leave the room, calling to his mother. I bet he was going to ask her to make a potion to settle his stomach.

Reluctantly I sat up and swung my legs over the side of my bed. I wasn't clothed yet, only in my underthings. I looked down at the pendant in my palm. I remembered, for the oddest reason, something I probably shouldn't. It wasn't good for my 'moving on' plan. I probably just should have left this stupid thing behind.

But I relished in my memories perfect remembrance.

His soft fingers brushing my collarbone. His warm lips, soft as the give of a peach on my mouth, kissing the underside of my jaw. My hands rested against his bare chest. The sound of the crackling fire outside of our warm, musky smelling tent. His leg intertwined with mine, while his soft voice echoed into the shell of my ear; "Do we really have to?" Alistair, complaining about the rising sun that peeked through the sky. Me, sitting up, reaching for my clothes, then being pulled back down those same fingers reaching around my neck and clasping the pendant there.

The same pendant that was in my hand now. The same pendant that had been around his neck, ever since his joining of the Grey Wardens. And that aforementioned morning, there was me, tying my own pendant of Darkspawn blood around his neck.

We traded.

And I know I shouldn't be wearing it. I took it off the day he broke it up. But he never did. I know I saw it everyday, even when Kina was around. They didn't know it was mine. He was wearing it the time of our weak moment. The same one that made me leave.

Maybe I thought too quickly last night, possibly... he didn't hate me. But that thought didn't change much, except all I knew was that I was in another weak moment. I couldn't bear being me, it hurt to be myself.. to be a mage that was full of corrupt.

Weak moments call for pathetic, meaningful gestures.

So I quickly clasped the necklace around my neck and hastened to get dressed before I could over think anything.

I hesitated to grab my staff, I didn't want the thing staring me in the face all day. In the end it had come down to the fact that I didn't particularly hate myself enough to make a suicidal decision like that, leaving myself to the digression of others with no way to fend off attacks, therefore I snatched it while bitterly muttering under my breath.

When I passed through the main room I told Carver I'll need him today and that after I went to get Varric, I wanted him to meet us up at Sundermout. Otherwise I wasted no time skidding outside and down towards The Hanging Man.

I pushed my way through the bar, which seems odd because I didn't know so many people arrive at the crack of dawn. Upon reaching Varric's room, he was there doing practically nothing.

"Varric," I trill softly, my voice was cracking from the aftermath of my tears. "Do you mind if I borrow your services for today?"

He didn't even think about it. "No problem, Hawke! Just let me grab my Bianca and we'll be on our way."

"Bianca?"

Varric withdrew a finely constructed crossbow, with a shimmering brass finishing. "_Bianca,_" he emphasizes, petting the length of it's neck.

I fought back the instinct to grin. I loved how he could make me smile, when I couldn't.

"Think she could handle a couple Dalish elves if she has to?"

He presses forward and I lead down towards the bar. "Bianca can handle anything. But Dalish elves you say? I could tell you some stories about them.."

_So could I. _

"I'd love to hear them, but maybe for another time." He nods in agreement as we swerve out of the bar and as we step outside he says something further.

"You know, next time don't even ask just call my name and I'll be there."

I raised an eyebrow. "You trust me that much?"

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for pretty mages."

I choked out a laugh. Not because what he said was uncomfortable. I knew he was just throwing that out there, not offering. It's just, soundly oddly familiar to something Zev would have said. I'm actually half sure he _has _said that thing to me.

The rest of our travel was in silence, as we headed for Sundermout. It was not the most brutal climb I've ever had in my life and when we reached the entrance to the Dalish camp, Carver was there waiting for us.

"You're looking better," I state right off the back.

He makes a mocking face. "Yeah, yeah make fun of the guy with the hang over."

"_I _didn't drink last night."

His eyes narrow. "Didn't sleep so well though, did you?"

"Why would you say that?" I spout off through clenched teeth.

Carver just waved away my question, looking down at the blade in his lap. He ran his thumb along it's edge then hefted onto his back, jumping to his feet. "Oh," he suddenly says. "I almost forgot, we should really visit Aveline tonight, it's been a long time since we have."

I nod, exasperatedly. Yes, one more thing on my list. So many things! I still have to gain the courage to figure out about this Grey Warden _and_ collect money for the expedition. But I know I will visit her, because it has been at least two weeks since I have.

The scenery of this mountain was quite nice. Lots of gray, the dirt was more gray then the brown it should be. I sensed a lot of the Fade though and it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Just one more added thing about being magical, you have weird senses. The light green and crumbling stone structures made it seem a lot like a place people wouldn't be, so by default I was going to have to be.

We paced around a curve when my stomach jerked, telling me something, and my eyes spotted it, hissing and spitting. I cringed away from the thing, then heard Carver grunt under his breath when about five more came bustling out behind it.

"Never said anything about spiders in the job description!" Varric calls as he suddenly dives towards the overgrown, giant arachnid.

Grudgingly I pulled the staff from my back. "I didn't know," I growl back to Varric, while watching Carver dive into them full force.

They surrounded him, all pincers and dripping poison. I sent a weak wave of ice, that hardly even rattled them.

"Come on Hawke, how many have you got?" Varric calls.

_Strangely talkative during battle, but infuriatingly so._

No, I was being sensitive. I got none.

I heard Carver call out, as one leaped onto his stomach and knocked him onto his back. Flash backs of old battles where the same thing had happened to others, like my tiny Leliana or physically defenseless Morrigan.

I reacted in kind, with a fireball that deteriorated the beast into nothing but a puff of ash. I dove towards Carver then, my legs feeling strange. As if they were not my own.

I grabbed onto Carvers forearm and tried to help him up. At the same time I repelled the remaining three spiders with a wall of ice. I hissed when Carver used one of his big, meaty hands to lean on my shoulder. He nearly sent me to falling, so I shoved him off and began to back away, causing a stone fist to finish off a poisonous spider.

I was nearly out, I waited for the blood to pulse more. I waited on the familiar tingling, but it didn't come back fast enough. Carver finished off one with a blade through it's belly, splattering him in blood while Varric got the last giant spider with an arrow through the heart.

Another bad thing about magic: it had no endurance.

I nearly threw my staff like a child, but drew in a deep breath tossing it on my back. While the two boys laughed a little over their victory I trudge on towards the Dalish, knowing that this was not even close to a victory.

I started to see the smoke of campfires and hanging on the ruins were cloths painted with Dalish markings. I wondered if they were close to the other clan I met. Though I sided with the werewolves and not the Dalish, I just thought they were rude. So, as I stepped towards two elves standing guard the entrance I actually started hoping they didn't know that me and cursed humans killed the remaining Fereldan elves.

"Hold shem!" called the male elf, his voice heavily accented. "You're kind is not welcome among the Dalish."

That warning, why does it seem just _so_ vaguely familiar?

Carver looked to speak out and I raised a hand to both him and Varric.

"I was given an amulet for someone named Marethari."

"How do you know that name?" the man demanded. Before I could answer, the female at his side spoke out.

"Wait, this is the one the Keeper spoke of."

Keeper knows of me?

"A shemlen!" the male elf exclaims. "I thought they'd be an elf."

"Into the camp," the female says, stepping aside. "Keeper Marethari has been waiting for you."

I moved forward, keeping Carver and Varric close on my flanks. As we were slipping passed the male yells after us, "Cause trouble, and you will meet our blades, stranger."

As we stepped further into the camp, pointed towards a elderly elf standing before a fire, my hand instantly moved to my neck, clutching the pendant into my fingers. For the oddest reason I felt like my blood sung to it, to the blood in the vile. But I was probably imagining that.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **Same old, same old. Thanks for reading, sorry for typos, please review. -Taryn(:_


	13. Letting Go

**_Chapter 13- "Letting Go"_**

**_(Future)_**

The sea was in sight. The downpour was drowning me. It was _still _raining.

I felt a sadness inside of my chest, for Anders. I'll have to write him sometime in the future, apologizing for what I just did. I shook my hands, the rain drops spilling down my bare forearms and turning red as they slipped over my blood stained palms.

I wanted it off and I dropped suddenly, to my knees, between two warehouses that towered over me. It was late afternoon, the sun was blocked out by a turmoil of gray clouds overhead. The air was gloomy and I was submerged into my own sorrow.

I splashed my two hands into ankle deep puddles. The scarlet transfers from my skin and into the murky water, like scarfs twirling in the wind. Hot, salty water suddenly touched the corner of my lips and I fought back a sob.

It swelled inside of my chest until I couldn't breath. My hands began to shake and I suddenly screamed. I bellowed out into the empty air towards the crying heavens.

And I cried with it.

The tears came deep within me, they shook my whole body and I let the free. They fell from my eyes and intermixed with the raindrops on my face. The rain drenched my weak robe, that hardly covered any skin and it soaked through my hair until it was frizzy and uncomfortably sticking to my neck.

That's when I heard the footsteps. The pounding of feet against the pavement and the responding crash of water splaying in every direction. My head whipped around to look over my shoulders to watch a spray of water, like shimmering cold diamonds scatter in every direction.

I pushed myself back up, and tried, but failed to sprint again. The arms stopped me.

They wound around my waist like iron bars caging me in. "No!" I sob, fighting them, the tears still holding over my mind. I just wanted to be _free_.

They didn't listen they only pulled me in, they didn't say anything to me; they knew I was beyond console. They only reeled my weak body in and held me, cradle my back against their chest, their warm hands flat against my stomach and their strong arms clutching me so tight that I thought maybe they could keep me from falling apart, shattering myself across the pavement.

Their face ducked into the crook of my head and shoulder, their lips brushing my neck, passed my mess of red hair. I couldn't see them, but I felt them.. and that was enough.

I cried, and slowly my hiccuping sobs calmed. I started to breath again and I sunk into their chest. I lay my head against theirs, my cheek touching the soaked strands of their short hair. "Let go," I whisper, my voice cracking.

"I can't," Fenris murmurs.

"You have to, Cullen waits for me."

I have finally given in. I have finally done what I thought impossible. I was leaving the nation, I was running to the docks to my waiting ship towards Orlais.

"Don't go," Fenris says simply, pleading and not understanding why I have been doing this. Why I have made him worry so much, why I have hurt Anders, why I have run from him.

I twist around, struggling against the tight grip he held me in. I turned about in his arm and was soon pressed into his chest, tilting my head back to look up into his face. His white hair was splattered against his forehead, dripping into his eyes, making him look younger and giving him this boyish appeal I have never seen before.

Those wide green eyes looked tortured, washed out.

"Come with me," I say, with true want in my voice. My hands rested against his chest and my fingers clutched the drenched armor. I could hardly bare leaving, but it sounded easier if I brought him with me. I could see myself in the hot, muggy country side of Orlais with embroidered clothing and eating succulent fruits with Fenris sitting at my side.

His eyes warred with himself. His fingers dug into the icy flesh on my back. "I will not."

"Why?" I demand, taking in a long stinging breath. I blinked the raindrops out of my eyelashes. I could not understand. "I-I, I only ask you come. Nothing more, I do not need love or servitude. Just a companion on the path I choose. Will you not be my companion? You once told me," my voice began shaking. "That you would accompany me anywhere, support me on everything, no matter what way I choose or what road I take. Has that changed?"

"I will not leave Kirkwall, Ceala." His eyes bore into mine, there was a grudging tone to his voice. "I told you that, because at that time I knew what you were thinking, because I knew the woman that I was looking at. But now.. I do not know what happened to the Ceala that I... that I loved. You are not her. What has happened to her?"

I fought back the urge to break down, to succumb in another fit of tears. I resisted the temptation to slap him for saying something so agonizing for me to hear.

_She never existed! There is no Ceala Hawke. _I screeched into my mind. _There is only Tera! And now you are looking at her._

"The woman I'm looking at now, is not brave, she is not honest and withstanding. You will not even allow me to help you, not even your friends-"

"Let me go!" I hiss, suddenly bucking backwards out of his arms. I didn't want to hear anymore.

"The woman I knew would never run like this! What are you running from Ceala?" I didn't answer, just continued to claw myself from his grasp. "I will not leave Kirkwall, because I know the woman I loved wouldn't either."

He finally let me go and I struggled back two or three steps. My arms hugging myself together, and huddling away from the cold.

I paused to stare at him through the rain. I heard his words echoing around the alley walls and I cringed on the inside.

"I guess you just know nothing about her then!"

He took one step forward. "How can you leave? How can you leave all your friends?"

"They'll be fine without me," I spat. They never needed me, I only give them worry and hurt them with my vicious nature. It was Denerim all over again.

"No, they won't," his voice suddenly softened, his eyes narrowing in a way that told me I was being absurd. His hands curled into fists as he spoke. "How can you leave Merrill? Yes, I know I've never liked her, but I can see what will happen once you are gone. She has no clan anymore, you know what happened to them, you _know _how she blames herself. She is so torn up lately and as soon as you're gone Knight Commander Meredith will snatch her and put her into the Circle."

I know what he says is true and I cast my face to the side, towards the wall on my right.

"She is not like you or Anders, Merrill's bright spirit will be crushed. She'll be tranquil before the end of the week." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you going to let her lose herself like that?" He takes another step forward. "What about Varric? I remember what happened with his brother, I know how broken up he was about it and how you comforted him. You were like the new family to him, to Merrill. Are you still just going to disappear on him too?"

I bit into my lip. I took a step away as he took another closer.

"I thought your friends meant everything to you, but I guess I was wrong. I thought you saved Isabelle from the Qunari because you cared, but I guess you'll just throw it all away for nothing-"

"_It is not because of nothing!"_ I snarl, snapping my face towards his. The tears flowed free, and nonviolent for once. They just kept coming, painfully thinking of all this that I was losing. I have never heard Fenris talk like this, not so forcefully. I have seem glimpses, but now I hear disappointment in his voice and I felt shame burning in my stomach.

I did not even know he was paying so much attention to me, to all this, to everyone.

"What happens when Anders gets thrown into the Circle?"

"He's to smart for that," I scoff and Fenris' shows a half scowl and brooding expression.

"How about when the Grey Wardens finally catch up to him? Or when he gets the 'calling' and he has no one to turn to? He will not come to me, he will go out of here thinking that no one has ever cared. He dedicates his whole life to save people and mages and he will die with nothing-"

"You're exaggerating. Since when have you _ever_ cared about him?"

"Since I saw you dislocate his jaw. Since I am forced to see some form of you run from me and I have hoped him a factor to stop you."

I hung me head. My hair fell over my face, hiding it from him.

He was right, he was so right. I slowly relaxed, I considered staying, allowing him to pull me back into his arms-

"What about your brother, as well? Where will you be when poisoned, corrupt mages try to taint him?"

My fading resolve slammed shut again. I felt it solidify and I began to cry, before I could stop myself. I looked back up and all I could think: _He's not my brother. _But I couldn't say it. I couldn't tell him. That's why I had to leave, because I was living a lie.

"Stay," I croak. "I don't care." I began to turn away and I didn't hear him following. "The woman _you_ loved isn't here any longer."

"Why? What are you scared of? What has scared her away?" I was stunted, hung up on that question. _What was I scared of? _ "I can help you, you just have to tell me.."

Could he help me? No. He would need to help Tera, but he doesn't know Tera. He only wants Ceala. No has ever wanted Tera... I should have known.

But _what _was I scared of?

Alistair? Yes, I'm terrified.

But why? He can't hurt me. I don't love him anymore.. do I? It's been nearly seven years!

I was scared of what he would say to me, if he saw me. I was scared that he would see me for the coward I had been when I fled Denerim. I was scared of what he might.. blame me of.

I was terrified of loving him again.

I didn't know if seeing him, touching him, talking to him could trigger something in me. In the buried Tera Amell. I was scared that I would fall for him again, that I wouldn't be able to run anymore.

"I _can't," _I whisper. How could I tell him that the woman he's saying he loves is not real? How does someone do that? "Fenris, I can't tell you. You'll only hate me.."

"I could never _hate_ you.."

"You don't know that."

I heard him step closer, I felt his fingers touch my elbow. "Try, there is no harm in trying. Will you try?"

"No."

"Why not?"

I struggled to say it. "Because I love you too much to hurt you."

It is the first time I admitted it. Too myself, to him, out loud..

I have avoided the word for so long. I have not told Fenris, I never thought to love again. I never thought I would actually move forward, away from Alistair. I was scared to say it, because last time I had it did not end in my favor at all.

But I said it now, with little relief, because I knew it was true. Because this shouldn't hurt as much as it does unless I loved him. Yet there was no relief in it because.. even if I loved _him, _he loved Ceala. I'll never be able to share my whole life with him.

He didn't reply. His hand on my elbow had fallen away minutes ago and he has not said one thing. There was nothing but the pitter patter of rain and it was killing me.

I couldn't take it any longer and I suddenly broke out into a sprint, diving towards the docks and ships.

I couldn't by sure, above the sudden horns of incoming ships, or around the howling wind that hit me once I stepped from the haven of the alley, but I thought I might have heard a small, straggled, "Wait!"

I dismissed this small hope and I caught sight of Cullen standing next to a ship captain. I pushed all thoughts from my mind and slid over to them, holding onto Cullen's shoulder for support as he paid the man for my ride. I do not know how I could ever repay Cullen for this. But I focused on praying that I left before any other friends could find me and break my resolve.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **YAY! Fenris and Tera moement! :D I love him. Just thought I'd share. Anyway thanks for reading sorry for typos please review for more updates! (Btw I AM going somewhere with all this, and it may seem like I'm giving away a LOT but I'm actually skipping all the good details xD) -Taryn(: _


	14. A Long Way Home

_**Chapter 14- "A Long Way Home" **_

_**(Past)**_

Why didn't I just die in the Blight?

I could have just easily refused Morrigan's insane offer and died gloriously as a Hero. I could have let the blasted Archdemon take me out, and Alistair would have carried my body to the others, I would have had a _real_ funeral then.

But no! _No_, I loved life too much.

"Varric, how many giant spiders have we killed?" I say boredly.

"About a hundred," Carver grunts, despite it was not him who I addressed. I shot him a look. He flashes a small, grim smile.

Stifling a groan I saunter away from the piles of dead arachnids and wipe my hands on my robes. They were filthy anyway. What's some more spider guts?

I stop once I reach the side of our new companion. "So, Merrill, why are you leaving the clan?"

About twenty minutes ago, and a hundred elevations below, Varric, Carver and I encountered the Dalish's Keeper. She informed us that the necklace was to be brought to an alter atop the mountain and we must bring this girl, her first, with us to do some sort of ceremony and as well to take her with us when we leave. Since I was determined to carry out my deal to Flemeth I agreed, and Merrill well, she didn't seem that awful. Though the more we climb and the more danger we encounter on this trail, with the veil so thin walking corpses keep rising, it became obvious she was a mage.

With my recent grudge on magic, it was difficult to get over that mound of instant dislike. But with her big green eyes, and the oblivious lilt of a voice, I couldn't be harsh on her. Especially not with joking Varric around.

So now I wanted to know why her Dalish clan was auctioning her off to the first stranger they encountered. Especially since the last Dalish clan I've seen, and they weren't about to let anyone of their ranks slip away, they were a close clan. This one didn't seem different and the Keeper seemed kind, so anyone could see my curiosity.

We only talked little, I know she's from Fereldan. I know she is a nervous, ditzy girl.

And now she was avoiding my gaze. "I am leaving, it is simple," she replies to my question.

Her flatter for my praise in her, better than Bethany's skill, of magic has disappeared. A couple feet back and a few corpses as well. I open my mouth to press the matter, but I was cut off.

"So the Keeper _finally_ found someone to take you from here," a male elf from up ahead exclaims. He stood by a fire, a few crumbling runes sitting nearby. By his bow I thought a hunter elf. His words I found more interesting.

"Yes," Merrill replies, hard. It is the first defiant word I've heard coming from her mouth.

Carver blinks at her in confusion, Varric wipes some grime from his Bianca. The hunter looks to me. "Finish your task quickly human, we can not be rid of this one too soon." He gestures towards Merrill harshly.

I felt a twinge of anger. Why, because of her magic? Because no one wants mages?

I felt the anger rising.

"Huh," Varric sighs, looking up. "I'm sensing a story here."

"Doesn't matter. I have made my choice and I will save my clan, whatever you think."

The guy ignores Merrill's words, walking forward and between me and her. I had a childish urge to trip him. But I let him pass, turning to the female elf. "What's going on here, Merrill?"

Her face is anguished. "Nothing, just ignorance. We should go." Without further a do, I turned to go but she adds softly. "I'm sorry, you're not seeing the Dalish at their best."

I tried not to snort. I did! But it escaped me to soon, thinking of the past too often, it seems.

Everyone gives me an odd look, but Merrill continues to say, "We're good people who look out for each other." The wind up here was nearly enough to hide her suppressed tone of sorrow. "Just not today apparently."

Yes, apparently.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" As I asked I really hoped that there wasn't. I planned on seeing Aveline today.

"It's kind of you to ask, I'm fine. Even if my people don't see what I do, I must continue forward. Now let's go, Asha'bellanar is not known for her patience."

Wonderful! "You would be the first," I say turning to go ahead. Asha'bellanar I assumed is what they called Flemeth, as that is what she's been saying, along with her Keeper when they adressed her. I didn't understand what the 'her people' thing meant, but I'm sure since I was going to have her around more, I'd have time later to figure it out.

For now we continue climbing the mountain. We end up having to cut through it, in a cave, where we meet up with more spiders and walking corpses. It pass by numbly to me, my thoughts wandering.

Finally we reach a point of exit. Someplace Varric called the Mountain Graveyard. The air was thin, the Fade made the wind seem like rain, ice cold and seeping into my skin. I don't think any of them felt it as much as me. I've been in the Fade more times then I care to count.

The sky was gray, and to our immediate right was a barrier. Something similar to what I've seen in the forest, between the werewolves and the other Dalish. I purse my lips, halting in my walk.

"I can open the way forward," Merrill gruffs, walking past me. "One moment."

I cross my arms over my chest, half hoping to learn some new skill of magic and also, meaning hide my slowly gathering discomfort from my other companions. I didn't like it up here at all.

"_Knife._"

My gaze snapped up from the high view the mountain gave us, that'd I paused to observe, at the sound of Carver's distress. I look quickly to Merrill to find that she has pulled a knife and I wince as she slices open her palm. I didn't feel anything though as she manipulates this blood, weaved with her magic, as a offensive use and to call a spirit here. She used it take down the barrier. Some random spirit of the Fade.

I think my jaw fell open.

"Are you insane?" I shout, causing Carver to jump. In a instant I had my staff pulled, my knuckles white with my grip.

Merrill was quick to defend. "Yes, it was Bloodmagic but I know what I'm doing. The spirit helped us, didn't it?" Her voice raised an octave at the end.

Yes, this spirit did help us. After she wounded herself and traded her own blood for it. I could sense it in the air. It craved more. It sung towards my own blood, asking me if I too wanted it's help for a price. I felt my stomach clench and unclench in disgust. It was the Fereldan tower all over again. Now I understood the hunter elf's words.

"You are a damned fool," I spat, but otherwise, I shouldered past her. I couldn't shun her just yet. Not until she did what ever she had to do to this locket. Then I will lash out.

She is just what I hated.

Her looks have blinded me. Her sweet, meek nature and those big eyes. She looked like a puppy for Andraste's sake! But in the end she is actually why I have never made it to be Queen in Fereldan. It is weak mages like her that make me look like the monster, because I know magic. It is Bloodmagic that makes all mages the enemy and makes me so unlovable.

Ugh! I seethe silently, gritting my teeth.

"There is danger up ahead," the idiot calls after me.

_She_ was the danger. Poor Dalish, now I pitied the hunter. And hated the Keeper for not telling me.

As predicted I saw the alter up ahead. I sped to it, but was soon facing a Arcane Horror. I skid back, throwing a lightening spell it's way. It was the best way to harm a Fade creature. I got knocked off my feet by it's own spell, but Carver soon leaps ahead.

It sends out a spell to drain him. I counter it with healing. Merrill, uses more Bloodmagic. I'm tempted to knock her on her back, then I'm distracted by the rising corpses at our back. I turn on my heels.

"Varric! Hail of arrows!" I shout, while freezing a row of them in place.

Soon I'm diving out of the arrow range, crushing any of them that survive it.

"Ceala!"

I whip around at my name. Merrill fights off the Arcane, while Varric kneels at Carver's side. His arms around wound around a gaping wound in his abdomen. I clench my jaw, jogging forward. I wave Varric into the fight, and drop to my knees next to Carver, dropping my staff.

Since I used my healing so early and it was not my best spell, I snatch a healing potion. "Y-You know, I think we could use A-Aveilne out here," Carver stutters, through his quickly graying lips.

I frown, forcing the potion down his throat. He sputters and coughs.

"I know," I sigh, looking up as the two new companions finish off the Fade enemy. "We need more close range fighters."

So far we have two mages, one archer, and one warrior. Only one can be close range and that does not bode him well at all. So I wouldn't bark at him for being injured often. I need to change my tactics.. soon.

As the potion works to heal him from the inside out, I take one of his hands, slick with blood and throw it over my shoulder. Maneuvering his weight and mine I stand and stumble up next to the alter with the other two. Varric tosses me a sack that I barely catch, after putting my staff back on my back.

"What's this?" I ask.

"Money. Arcane dropped it, thought it'd be good for the expedition." He flashes me a knowing grin.

I nearly forgot what I was working towards. I instantly remember Meeran's offer for work and I thought about meeting with him after Aveline, it'll be by dark when he wants to meet anyway..

"The amulet?" Merrill demands, holding out a hand.

Right, one thing at a time. I trade the sack of coins in my pocket for the locket, tossing it to the filth mage. By then Carver stops leaning on me and shifts onto his other foot, so I sigh at the lack of his burden.

Merrill steps forward, placing the amulet on the alter. With apprehension my other companions share a look. I try not to smirk at the fear I see in their eyes. Mostly Carver, since he had not liked Flemeth's encounter one bit and he didn't trust whatever this deal meant. To a stranger I suppose she is unsettling, especially the way she looks now a day. I remember the first time I met her, it was a heavy atmosphere with those men, like Alistair, around with me.

At the thought of Alistair my hand moves to the necklace I put on this morning.

Merrill begins to speak in elvish. A language too dead for my companions to know and beyond my care to learn. It sounds pretty and closing my eyes I for some reason could see Zevran's face. He may have grown up in a whorehouse and knew nothing of his race, but those tattoos on his face, I knew were of some meaning to elves and I always thought they were breathtaking.

My eyes snap back open at the sound of swishing and summoning. For a second my temper flashed white hot at the thought that she used Bloodmagic again, in front of me, but when I found a muse of Flemeth slowly swaying into form, my mouth shuts itself.

I watch my companions, especially Varric, stumble back as she becomes solid. Her piercing yellow eyes finding mine. "Ah," she breathes, her voice hoarse. And I thought I'd seen the last of her. "And here we are."

"Yes," I say back, narrowing my eyes and my fingers falling away from the pendant on my neck. Realizations dawn on me quickly to her plan all along. "_Here_ we are."

Flemeth smirks.

"Blah, blah, blah." Okay, she didn't say that. It was more elvish. I didn't even let my eyes stray to the blood mage, though, instead I took a step closer to Flemeth. While the white haired, powerful woman (was she really a mere woman?) turned her gaze to the bowing Merrill.

"One of the people," she says, eying her. "I see. So young, and bright. Do you know who I am beyond Asha'bellanar?"

I look between them, as Merrill continues to gaze at the ground bent forward as if facing a God. "I know only a little."

"Then stand," Flemeth murmurs, and Merrill doesn't hesitate to obey. "The people bend their knees too quickly."

I was lost. I do not know how Merrill knows of her, though it is obvious she only thinks of a distant legend. Like the Witch of the Wild legends in Fereldan. I decide that the less business I get into Flemeth's the less damage she could do to my life any longer.

She turns her gaze to me. "It is so refreshing to see someone who keeps their end of the bargain."

I snort under my breath. "Funny, I was about to say what a safe and lovely journey I had coming here. I _especially_ loved the part where I had to go into servitude to get inside the city wall."

Her eyes bore into mine. Most would cower, but I held strong.

"Well, I half expected to find my amulet in a merchant's pocket."

"I agreed to deliver the amulet," I say, sliding even closer, narrowing my eyes more. Merrill didn't seem to like how familiar I was to her or how close I got. But who was she to talk to me? As a second thought I add, almost nonchalantly, "Though you could have told me you were inside it."

I would have not kept it so close.

"Oh, you exaggerate my old friend," her voice was like a throaty whisper. Her eyes were intent in mine. "I would have thought a mage like you to sense. But it was only just a piece. A small piece. And it was all I needed. A bit of security, should the inevitable occur and if I know my Morrigan it already has."

My throat grew tight at the mention of Morrigan. Last I knew she was running from this woman before me. I wanted to ask about that, but I recalled the need to release the old me. I needed to let go of Tera and her old companions. The necklace, was the weakness today. I could not find myself buried in a heap between Morrigan and Flemeth again.

"I take it you have plans," I resolve on murmuring.

One of her hands reaches to my face. I avert it. But still her fingertips graze my cheek before dropping. "Destiny awaits us both, dear child. We have much to do." _Tell _me about it. "Before I go, a word of advice.."

Despite her words, she turns from me and steps towards the alter. Her eyes wander the sights below. The Dalish. The forest. The coast. Even further beyond, is Kirkwall and then the Free Marches.

"We stand upon the presuppose of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. _Watch_ for that moment. And when it comes... do not hesitate to leap." She swings around to face me again and I tense. "It is only when you fall, that you learn whether you can fly."

"Must you always speak in riddles?" I breathe, soaking in her words. I do not know what she means. I pray that her words earlier, months ago about me finding my life again was true. I just wanted to move forward. I _wanted_ change. A second chance. But her talk of destiny frightens me. I'm scared that I may only end up as someone else, like Tera, who can not control her life.

She laughs, tossing her head back in arrogance. "You remind me of Morrigan." This was says fondly and my cheeks flood with color. I was _nothing_ like Morrigan. But before I could comment, she turned to Merrill. "As for you child, step carefully. No path is darker than when your eyes are shut."

"Maseranis, Asha'bellanar," she replies in elvish.

I think I may just dump her off in the Alienage, the second I get the chance.

"Now the time has come for me to leave." Flemeth glides to my side once more.

I lift my gaze to hers, holding back the comment, 'Oh, what ever shall I do without your words?' and listened to her.

"You have my thanks.. and my sympathy." She smiles lightly and I hold my blank expression, but when she turns away and I can see the magic, feel it, gather about her for her change she murmurs, "_Ceala," _under her breath.

I could not reply, as in seconds she was no longer the intimidating woman and was instead a giant beast that made Carver growl, and my stomach drop through my feet. The beast only reminded me of Bethany and her mangled body. It made me think of how all my friends at this moment will be standing in a graveyard, looking at a headstone that is only a lie.

I turn my face away as she soars into the sky, while the blood mage runs forward, to watch her off.

"It is done," I say, snatching the amulet. I have finished this deal officially, now I only needed to bring the necklace back to the Keeper. As I turn away fully, I pass Carver and briefly rest my hand on his shoulder.

He harshly shrugs me away. He has not forgiven me for Bethany. It does not matter to him that I am his cousin. I am only a mage, who couldn't save his sister. Who led her to this strange, shape shifting mage that killed her.

Sighing, I trudge forward and down the mountain. This time we did not encounter anything. The path was clear and I walked yards in front of the others. Varric was slightly bemused, Carver staring at his hands and Merrill looked just _dandy_.

As I walk into the camp again, spotting the Keeper I pick up pace, until I am just strutting. I near, and she turns to me, I toss the amulet. She barely manages to catch it.

"I will not take her," I hiss.

The Keeper shakes her head sadly. "Your willingness to pay your last dept in full had led me to think that you will honor this deal."

"You think you can trick me?" I snarl, unable to hide from the irritation any longer. Who was she, dumping Merrill on me? "I will not take her, she is a corrupt mage. She turns to the Fade and Bloodmagic for her problems. I cannot even look someone as her in the face! If I could not accept my best childhood friend for it, Keeper, then I certainly won't watch out for a stranger!"

The others join my side then, Merrill glaring at me. "It is none of your-"

"Merrill, child," the Keeper interrupts, raising a hand for silence. Her eyes bore into mine, as if she is trying to see my true motive here. "I only ask you to deliver her to the Alienage. As for your other dept, it has been paid in full." She waves the amulet at me, then turns to the traitor, She is a traitor to our very kind. Our kind being _mages. _She embarrasses us all and me the most. "It is not too late to change your mind," she waves a hand to me. "You can see how hard it will be out there."

I held my tongue, but huffed under my breath. That was only an understatement. I may not be traitor enough to people like her, as in going to turn Merrill in to the Circle, but others are. Others will rake in the money of finding an apostate, and even better.. a blood mage.

"I have already made up my mind," Merrill replies, standing tall. "It is nothing I can't handle."

The Keeper looks saddened, but I make a frustrated and impatient hand motion. I knew this would happen. It always happens. I have no choice, _ever_. I swing away from them all and strut back towards the trail home, while the others just stare, baffled, after me. A minute later I call over my shoulder, "If you are going to be following me, then I have one rule: _Keep up!"_

I don't think I've ever seen people scramble so quickly.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** __I know it's been awhile, but I've had a bought of writers block lately. I'm still struggling with it. But nothing reviews can't fix! Please review! PLEASE! Thanks for reading, sorry for typos. The more the reviews and the longer the reviews are! The longer and sooner the next chapter is! -Taryn(:_


	15. A Friend In The Guard

_**Chapter 15- "A Friend in The Guard"**_

_**(Past)**_

"I-Is this... is this really where the elves live?"

I tried to be sympathetic. I'm not completely heartless, even towards blood mages. So I give her a vague shrug.

Varric, being the good guy adds with heartfelt, "Not the prettiest part of Kirkwall, but it doesn't have a view of the giant chains. Take what you can get."

Carver was spacing out. He didn't like Low Town, that was obvious, but I'm quite certain his thoughts were lingering on Bethany and everything that happened the first day he met me and Flemeth.

Merrill turns away, observing the crumbling, over crowded place. It lacks warmth and the raw beauty most Dalish clans capture.

"I didn't think it'd be so.. so..." Her words seemed to fail her and she drops her face a little, before looking back towards us. "I've never seen so many people before. Yet, it seems so.. lonely."

The urge to say something mean burns in the pit of my stomach. But my distressed glance in Varric's direction begged him to do something for me. Before I could say simply, 'get used to it'.

"Well, you already know us. You'll meet more people in no time."

"I.." Merrill began to say but then sighs and looks to me. "Thank you. Thank you for everything, for your help." She walks towards me, gnawing on her lower lip. I stare at her evenly, until she suddenly bursts, "Will you come visit me?"

I cover my sudden bark of humorless laughter with a skillful cough. No one was the wiser, but she continues talking despite it.

"Not! Right now, of course. But maybe later... I could use a friend."

She is a traitor to all mages. She is the reason Alistair, the Arl, a kingdom, and my parents couldn't accept. I sure could use a real friend too, and it wasn't Merrill.

"I think you will find better friends.. _elsewhere_." With that I turn to go, Carver and Varric in tow.

As we scaled the steps Varric's frown was trying to tell me I had been harsh on the elf. "Daisy doesn't mean harm," he mutters and I shake my head.

He couldn't understand.

Once we hike it towards the bustling shops on the other side of Low Town, I lead them towards the steps into High Town. I still mean to catch up with Aveline today. It's been a long while. I want to see how she's been coping recently, with all this time, about the loss of her husband. As Carver and Leandra are still sullen about Bethany and since I'm aching for my old companions, I know her answer won't be 'just dandy'.

I'm glad she got into the guard. Somehow I knew she would be the second we got to Kirkwall. The way she looked sadly at those people starving, struggling as they sat outside of the city wall, told me she was the kind of person to fight for justice. Plus, she struck me for law enforcement the second I laid eyes on her.

As we neared the Viscount's Keep, sweeping through the fancy High Town streets, I got plenty of stares. Mostly noblewoman who were disgusted by my appearance. I've seem to have forgotten that normal people bathe regularly and don't walk around with blood staining their clothes. I guess in the Blight, I reason as I walk up the steps the Viscount's Keep, I never thought about it, because no one else had been able to care for much else other then surviving. Now I'm in Kirkwall, people don't have anything but gossip and cleanliness in their heads.

I scoff, opening the large doors, thinking about how that could bode bad for my fellow Fereldan's. We are the dirty ones while the Free Marchers are clean and wealthy. At least Fereldan had a good King.

"You can't miss the Viscount's Keep. It practically screams, 'Nothing fun ever happens here!'" Varric murmurs as we paced into the over decorated room. It wasn't like the palace in Denerim, it had red decorations and embroidered rugs along the floor of the structure's impeccable construction.

"You said it," Carver muttered back as we pass a pair of guards to the stairs. We take a right towards the southern wing where the city guards stay.

We approach the room now and I spot the red hair out of the corner of my eye. I walk up to her, careful to make noise as not to startle her. The boys stood back, uninvolved as I went forward. Things were still tense between Carver and Aveline about the Templar and his sister.

"Aveline," I say, my voice full of welcome.

She finishes reading something posted on the wall, not even turning to face me as she replies, "Hello Hawke."

The lack of enthusiasm turns down my smile. "Been awhile.. hasn't it?"

"What?" She sounded properly attentive now as she turns around, and since she sees me she smiles. "Oh, right. Sorry, it feels like we just talked. I've been keeping an eye on you. Information is one of the few perks of this job."

I shudder. The words reminding me of something a Templar would have said.

Then she adds, leading me towards a wall on the other side of the room, "Watch out for Bartrand, he's a son of a bitch."

I ignore that comment with a waning smile. "Still having trouble with the guard then? I thought you were past all that."

"Lately I don't know, I've been pushed out to some dead patrols. Maybe I stepped on someone's toes."

The look on wonder on her face made me shrug, saying lightly, "You can be forceful. Maybe you emasculated a easily jealous lad."

She laughs. "My charm, right?" Then she adds seriously. "I should be able to go where I am needed. In fact I might have a job for you. Let me know I you want to do a favor for Kirkwall. Otherwise you know I'm here if you need me. Maker knows I could use more satisfying work."

Favor for Kirkwall? Well not really, but if I could get some coin out of it for the expedition I might be able to make Carver happy. He's looking forward to going on this trip, he wants the travel. He wants to be away from Leandra for a while and I don't blame him.

Plus, I'm hoping by getting this money quick and going fairly soon, that he'd find it a bit easier to forgive me.

"Alright," I pronounce, crossing my arms over my chest, tilting up my chin. "What's this job you have for me?"

"Well my patrols may be empty walks in the dark, but there is something big coming up and I could use you. An ambush. Probably for a caravan, except I can't find any shipments that match up. Doesn't mater though, I won't go waiting for someone to rob. I'll be putting a stop to it, my district or not."

Her voice turned grudging at the last part. I could tell she was going to do it with or without me, and I'm sure we will get some reward for it, or at least the wares of the robbers to sell. I flash her a grin. "You have yourself a partner."

She tilts her head fondly. "I knew I could count on you. The robbers are hidden up on Sundermout." I groan on the inside. "Remote and rough. We can make good time with a short cut. And no, you can't run off and do it without me. I trust you, but I have to be there. You're acting on behave of the guard."

"I understand," I sigh, looking over to Varric and Carver. They were laughing about something, then I look at the deteriorated state of their clothes. "How about tomorrow?" I ask Aveline, turning towards her hopefully.

"Yes, meet me here before dawn."

"You mean _before_ the sun rises?"

She laughs at my scowling, nearly childish face.

"Yes before the sun rises. You've seen that haven't you? I do hope so." She leans forward to tap her shoulder against mine, nudging me back towards the door. "Now get outta here, before you lot attract rats with your stench."

I pretend to huff in offense, but Maker, did I catch the scent of us now. I know she caught the amused tilt of my mouth and I nodded the boys forward as we sauntered out of the Viscount's Keep. Once we were on the front steps I told them of the job and they both agreed to do it, we were going to meet back here. Varric departed from us on our walk to Low Town. Carver ditched me for the bar and I headed home. As I walked, my mind wondered and my hand raised to toy with the pendent of Alistair's.

I missed him.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_I know this chapter is kind of boring. :P But it had to be done. So.. I've had a major plot fall through and this story is now, mentally, complete. I have it planned all up to this one point where I am stunted. But to help! I would REALLY like if you could review or PM me about this: Who do you like for Tera the most? Alistair or Fenris? (This is VERY important. Please respond or I will choose. Even if you don't review regularly I would like to hear what you have to share.) Thanks for reading, sorry for typos. Please Review! OH! And I've been thinking about after this story I might write Tera's Origin story. I'm not sure, depends if people would read it. -Taryn(:_


	16. Late Night Reminisce

**_Chapter 16- "Late Night Reminisce"_**

**_(Future; before all other future entries)_**

_"Here, look at this. Do you know what it is?"_

_"Your new weapon of choice?"_

_"Yes, that's right! Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements! Feel my thorns, darkspawn! I will overpower you with my rosy scent!"_

I groan. My hands move to my face, covering it. I wished to hide from the picture playing across my eyes; of Alistair's charming face, that slight embarrassed smile that complimented the tinge of pink in his cheeks. The beautiful rose in his hands, that he presented to me at random.

I think that is what may have started it all. Not technically, but that moment where I could not even breathe I had been laughing so much I felt like this had been the moment where I actually considered loving Alistair.

And now.. I think I had the same thoughts about another man.

It felt wrong, having another man's lips touching mine. I kissed Fenris. Well.. he kissed me. It didn't matter. It was too soon. It was too fast. He wasn't.. Alistair.

He's leaner, shorter, skinnier. There isn't a broad chest and wide shoulders to cling to, but instead I have his bright green eyes and traces of warm, pulsing lerium across his skin. The lerium sung to me. It made it ten times more intense then it should have been, when his lips brushed over mine.

I squirmed now, remembering it. The warm water swimming around me soaked into my limbs and washed away the blood of today's troubles. I had actually bothered to bathe, but I just wanted to get rid of this lingering dirty feel I felt crawling beneath my skin.

Fenris and Alistair. The names were so different and they didn't fit together inside of my heart. They both couldn't fit at all. I felt my chest fill with pain, a yearning for Alistair so strong, so much more intense then Fenris' kiss that I thought that I might be physically ill.

It's been two years; two years without seeing Alistair. And now I was remembering all those times I fell head over heels for him. One that stood out more then most was when we were sitting in our tent, discussing our companions. He was sitting criss-cross by my side, his hands running fingers through my hair, like the finest pieces of silk he wished to purchase, and I was laying out on my stomach, picking through my pack.

He complained about Morrigan, and a few others. I defended them more or less. Or not at all. Until he let out a evil laugh and scooped me up into his lap, whispering, _"I've got this nefarious plan to go around to each of them and secretly tell them all the nasty things you said. That way they'll mutiny, and I shall become the group leader!" _

I laughed, tilting my face up to look at his. His hands cradled me like a child and I remember loving how it felt, like a kitten, seated there. _"If you want to lead, all you have to do is ask."_

It was impossible for me to miss that startled look on his face, that was soon replaced with tease. _"What? Lead? Me? No, no, no. No leading. Bad things happen when I lead. We get lost, people die, and next thing you know I'm stranded somewhere without any pants."_

"_Hopefully I'm not too far off, if that happens," _I smirked, a hand running down his chest to the belt of his pants. Next thing I knew I was kissing him. I lunged so quickly he fell to the ground with a _oaf._ We both end up laughing, while my forehead tapped against his...

I cut the memory there.

Nails bit into my forehead. I felt like melting into the searing hot water of the tub. I wanted to fall away, slip through, and never remember. Slowly, my back slides down the length of the stone, scrapping my skin painfully. My teeth dig into my lip, holding back a squeak of discomfort.

I stop when my head is submerged into the water. I curl up. My knees suffocate my chest and my lungs stung for oxygen, they withered inside of me. Building in pressure. Begging for air, that I wouldn't give it.

My fingers comb back, sifting into my hair and sharp pains arising on my scalp. I felt myself build with the pain. I felt the frustration, the uncertainty and complete insanity of loss howling through my body until I could not contain it and I began to thrash around.

My heels beat against the bottom of the tub and I screamed, underwater. The fluid gathers in my mouth, as I use every last drop of carbon my body produced, until I'm both winded and drowning.

_"That's what I'm here for. To deliver unpleasant news and witty one-liners." _

His voice keeps betraying my thoughts and all I can think is: Not anymore. Why? Why does it have to be this way? Was this for the best? Was _anything_?

Carver leaving me. Was that for my _benefit_? Duncan and the other Wardens; slaughtered. Is that even remotely logical to claim along the lines of 'everything happens for a reason'?

Should I be fucking grateful?

The thought came with bright spots behind my closed eyelids. My fight faded and the warm water seemed to lose it's burn. I only wished that the pain would misplace it's bite and sting. That's what I wanted.

Hands. Two rough hands snatched me by the shoulders, ripping me upwards and beyond the glassy surface of the water. I sputtered, my eyes falling open, my hands smacking to the edge of the tub and holding me awkwardly propped up, while the person behind me continued to dig their fingers into my flesh.

"Ceala Hawke!" they admonish. "What in Andraste's good name are you doing?"

_Suffering, burning.. dying. _"Let me go!" I slap away Leandra's hands and she drops me, my back slapping against the stone. The sound it made was like a wet washcloth smacking against granite.

Leandra huffs, circling around to the front. Her arms are crossed over her chest and I don't even try to hide my nakedness as I rub my back, wincing. She glares at me and I know my face is twisted into a sneer. "Go _away_."

"I would," she says. "But there's someone at the door for you and I came to inform you. Sorry I walked in on your attempted murder. I'll knock next time." She began strutting away, but before she went she paused, frowned and delicately picked up the silk robe from across the room, before placing it gently on the edge of the tub. The whole time she didn't look at me, but I know we will apologize later to each other about this over dinner.

Sighing after she closed the door I heft myself out of the tub. My legs are shaking and I'm not cold. As I dry myself quickly I pull the cold, silk robe on. It soothes my stinging skin. Not so much my heart though. I trudge out of the bathroom, into my room and quickly down the house stairway, while my hands make quick work of wringing out my hair and twisting it into a braid. It's bemusing to me, when I think about it, if Leandra hadn't pulled me back up would I have stopped to breathe?

Yes. Unfortunately. I'm selfish like that. I like living, no matter how miserable it may be.

"A Mr. Cullen at the door for you," Bodahan announces, standing like a good man servant in front of the cracked front door. I give him a small smile, dismissing him.

What was Cullen doing here? I hadn't talked to him in a week or two. Uncertainly I tightened the robe around myself and pulled open the door, just so my two shoulders could prop it open and hold the space. The night chill overwhelmed me, but there he was. Cullen, the same one I knew in Fereldan.

With my recent memories seeing him here made them and my emotional state worse. Was it a complete bitch of me to wish it was Alistair standing there and not Cullen? Or maybe Fenris..? I had thought.. when Leandra.. I guess he was just as miffed about the kiss as I was.

"Yes?" I ask.

He steps closer to the light sprawling out from the door, I catch the heavy look in his eyes. "I..I," he cleared his throat. Why is it he always can't seem to talk to me? "I received a post, a few hours ago. I thought I could wait.. until morning, excuse the late hour, but it seems I thought.. I should come quick."

_Just in time actually, _I think with dual amusement, _you just stopped me from drowning. _

Oh, my hero. I could just clutch my heart now and fall into him.

"Your post?" I inquire, slightly bland. I suppose I should be more worried, but I guess years of surprises, tend to get old and not so terribly shocking as one problem after another piles on top of me.

He glances around the street. It's deserted. But still he feels the need to say, "Maybe we should take this inside.."

I raise an eyebrow, glance over my shoulder into the fire heated, empty front room. What was the harm? I shrug, pushing open the door and moving my arms in a mock sweeping movement. "Be my guest." As he walks passed me, in all his Templar armors glory, I do a curtsey. His lips twitch upwards, but otherwise his face remains serious.

After I close the door, I lean into it, crossing my arms over my chest. I observe him, my chin tilting up. "So what's this about?" I ask and he shifts his weight, standing straight in front of me. In his hands is a tattered, sea-water stained envelope.

"I received a letter, form Fereldan.. it mentions you-"

Before he could finish that I snatched the thing from his hands. I flip back the flap of the broken seal and pull out a parchment full of familiar handwriting. I pause, looking at it. My head struggles to find why it is so familiar. But my heart instantly skips a beat, because as I read the first word, with it's delicate stroking, I know who wrote this.

"_Leliana," _I breathe.

Cullen nods. "We've kept in contact." I look up to find him blushing. I might have smiled at the thought of my old Templar Chantry loving friend falling for the redheaded Chantry fanatic if I wasn't so breathless with surprise. "Like I said.. I didn't want to wait until morning, I thought maybe you could figure out what she meant, I couldn't."

Curious I look back down at the letter. Then I quickly refocus on him. "You don't mind?" I say, waving the papers cautiously. He shakes his head, giving a tense laugh.

"No, I have nothing to hide."

I smile and I lead him over to the table used for my own post. I lean into the wood, laying down the pages, while Cullen hangs around my back, peering over my shoulder. I leaf through the papers, clearly worn from a ship travel to get here. It was several pages long and though most of the first ones were just to Cullen, of sweet nothings and light trivial topics, I still read them.

He didn't mind and I loved reading Leliana's words, even how little a comparison it is to her real voice.

"There," Cullen whispers, reaching an arm around me and pointing at the fourth paragraph on the fifth page. "That's where I start to lose her."

_I can not tell you how relived I was after court today, with King Alistair. I had been stopping by in Denerim on my travels since I soon must go to Orlais and I was working my way to the Waking Sea. He invited me into the palace. It is so nice to see a old face. Do you get what I mean? I suppose you will, if you ever get to come back to the Fereldan Circle. You remember Alistair? So charming. You should have seen him in court! Makers breath he looked like he could put a High Dragon to shame. Ah, I'm sorry, I am rambling. Again. But you said you loved that about me, so I suppose I won't restart my letter. My relief was due to the fact that the Hero of Fereldan, Maker bless her soul, has been found innocent of all charges. _

"Charges?" I ask, reeling internally. "I'm dead to them, for two years! How could I be facing charges?"

Cullen shrugs and shakes his head, just as lost.

Perplexed, I continued to read.

_Poor Alistair, facing all those other Wardens and just after the recent tragedy. _Recent tragedy? _I think he did himself proud, I told him he's a great King. Plus, Wynne she really did not deserve what they did. I tried to speak up, but who's going to listen to silly old me? I'm just glad the King is on Tera's side, I don't think I could bare such a good woman's name to be soiled. _

_I visited her grave this morning. I was surprised to see fresh flowers placed around it. Roses. (Between you and me, I think that the King visits the grave often.) You should hear the rumors around here, it's enough to drive someone mad. They should at least hush their mouths and thoughts to the Maker. It is so sad entering the Chantry and finding the Noblewoman muttering. And those aren't their prayers, I tell you. Have you been praying Cullen? I-_

And that's where my mention had stopped.

Head spinning, I stand straight and walk away from the table. I needed air, and space to think. Not Cullen hovering over me and a wall staring me in the face. I took in long, healthy breaths. My feet stop in the middle of the room. My back is to him, but I hear Cullen collect up the letter and tuck it away.

One arm moves to sling around my abdomen, the other props the elbow on it and my palm holds my chin up, from resting on my chest. My eyes go glassy. My nails trail lightly over my lips and I can't really soak it in.

So many questions, so many lost answers. So much regret.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice cracking. "Thank you for showing me. I'm glad it didn't wait. You can go now, if you want."

He leaves, without me needing to show him the door. I look at the carpet for a long time. My fingers itch to write something. To reply or put in words for Cullen to ask, but that was too much. Or manipulative. I couldn't decide. I finally end up tossing my head back and running up the stairs, diving back into the bath. It's cold, but I use the ever present magic in my blood to heat it to searing again. Sighing, I sink in, but leave my mouth above surface.

I can't let go. I know I won't. I wanted to live too much. I fight too hard to let go.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_Hopefully this was a little more interesting. Enough to review on? (Tell me what you liked! What you hated? What your favorite part was? What you want to see more of?) Thanks to everyone who reviewed and most importantly voted! I've heard all your opinions and listened/reread multiple times. It is SO hard to choose. You just can't even know, with the ideas in my head. You don't know what's going on with Alistair back at home *shakes fists frustratedly* and I know that's my fault, but ugh! Fenris, I love him.. but Alistair needs.. and I've made the decision though. Or it may change. I won't tell you, but in the end you'll see who Tera chooses as her champion. Thanks for reading, sorry for typos, please review! - Taryn(:_


	17. Denerim:Two Years After Tera's Departure

_**Chapter 17- "Denerim: Two Years After Tera's Departure"**_

Alistair stares at his hands. The Noblemen continue to speak, but he has stopped listening hours ago. Teagan, thankfully, had stepped forward to take care of these nonessential things that tend to bore and depress their homely king.

"I've been having a problem with my crops-"

The man in front of the line was shoved aside by another, much older and well known nobleman. His face is hard and has eyes that gleam with outrage. "I want to press charges!"

Alistair looks up, his face smooth and uncaring, but a slight curiosity in his eyes. "On whom?" the king asks.

The Nobleman, Felgum Keene, shifts his glare to Alistair. His lips curl in distaste. "_You_."

Teagan clears his throat. "That is a heavy choice, what may I ask are you accusing your king of?"

Felgum did not become meek to the new second of Denerim. He holds his shoulders high. "Not upholding his duty to us as king. Corrupting the trial against the deserting Warden Tera and working with her on the sinister magic that the dragon lays proof to-"

Face contorting and fists curling Alistair stands. His figure throws a shadow down from his throne and his blue eyes become inflamed. "Is your country being invaded, Mr. Keene?" he demands, his voice bouncing around the room. The people gathered at court shy away, having seen this of their king not just a week ago, during the trial.

Felgum pursed his lips. "No.."

"And have I fixed the failing economy? Is the North road now reaching farther and safer across Fereldan?"

"Yes.."

The king arches an eyebrow. "To which question do you answer?"

"Both."

"Then how have I failed you and your people?"

Slowly growing agitated and unnerved Felgum begins to fidget. "You do not seem-"

"I have stopped the annual celebrations and frequent socials, I apologize. But I was not under the impression that was a requirement to being king."

Felgum swallows tightly, then glares again, fumbling onto the next charge. "I still hold the charge of corrupting the Warden's trial."

Alistair narrows his eyes, takes a deep breath, then slowly sinks back into his throne. "I have not. And if you cannot trust that then I cannot help you. There was nothing to lose in that trial and when someone dies I do not consider it an act of deserting."

"She left before dying! We know of the note telling us so."

"There is the possibility that she sensed the dragon heading towards Denerim and had decided to sacrifice herself for the safety of us all, but left the note as to cover her tracks." The earnest hope in his voice made him look begging towards this possibility. But the guilt and blame still churned in his stomach. He knew no matter how much he wished not to, that it was his fault. He killed her. Tera; companion, best friend, lover, leader. The love of his life. It was his fault. And he could hardly look in the mirror anymore.

Growing desperate, and not to look a fool with Teagan and the community standing behind him, Felgum blurts out, "You killed the Queen!"

Alistair lost his baring in that moment, face going slack. Teagan on the other hand took a shuddering step forward, motioning the guards at the door, with their hand on their swords, to seize the daring man.

"How dare you bring up Lady Kina, Maker bless her soul, within the presence of the court! And to accuse the King of her death!" Teagan cries and many of the gathered court members call out in agreement.

Felgum, appalled by the lack of support from the community members, begins to shake his head franticly. "Wait, wait! I didn't mean that, my wits ail me! Please.. My Lord, I take it back, I spoke too quick."

Alistair stares at the lad. His hands on the arms of the throne clench and unclench, until slowly his clenched jaw softens and he calls to the men, beginning to tackle the struggling Felgum. "Let him go."

Immediately the guards dropped Mr. Keene into a heap on the marbled floor. Felgum scrambles to his knees, bowing. "Thank you, My Lord. Thank-"

"Stand."

"Of course, My-"

"Stop calling me 'My Lord'."

Felgum nods silently to the hard faced Alistair, looking out of place upon the throne.

It is a moment of pin dropping silence within the palace as Alistair stares at the nobleman in front of him. Teagan shifts his weight, anticipating what the king might do. There was concern in his face, for Alistair, who has been acting not himself for months, for the past two years without the Commander Warden. Recent tragedy set aside, it seemed Alistair has pushed away his softer, joking side and has stepped up to his role as a nation's king. It pleased Arl Eamon immensely, but to Teagan, sometimes it seemed.. off.

"My wife died of natural causes, Mr. Keene. I will not tolerate those rumors out there. Do not think they are not heard by my ears." He pauses, fighting hard to keep the sadness from his face.

Teagan takes the moment to intervene, giving an order to the guards. "Have our Mr. Keene taken to the cell for the night, no meal-"

"No," Alistair booms, sending Teagan a glare. Then he looks to Felgum. "Go straight home. No stops at the bar or the pearl. Go to your family, help your wife make dinner and talk with your children. I don't want to see your face back in here until tomorrow. Now get out of my sight."

Half stumbling and bowing, Felgum streaked from the room. Upset rolled through the throngs of noble people standing in line, watching him go with whispers. Teagan shares a look of wonderment with the guards, at how the man had been let go without punishment. Now other men could try to stand up to the King thinking it went without consequence.

Alistair pulls at his hair with his hand, for a immeasurable second his eyes close. The man up front, with the crops problem clears his throat, wanting the minimal attention he'd earned from standing in line all morning. Unfortunately for him, the king lifted a pair of worn blue eyes and stood, slouching around the throne and exited the room without so much as an excuse.

Teagan was annoyed by this, but proceeded with a rushed fashion to finish up the court business. There was the crops problems from bugs to poisons. Then there was a giant spider infestation on the south edge of the city. A pair of women from the orphanage reported a missing group of children, so guards were spared to search for them. He handled a pair of thugs with a money dispute.

Then finally he paid off a few workers who had helped with the epically portioned plan that Alistair himself had come up with to cure the economy, by expanding the North road and geographically helped clear up the whole of Fereldan. It had taken nearly a year and seven months, and he had done it without bankrupting his citizens with unjust tax. Instead he funded, and accompanied, a expedition into the Deep Roads successfully taking advantage of the riches that could be found down there to benefit, not himself, but the nation he was now in charge of.

On top of his economy and trade achievement, he pulled the previous dept from hierarchy under and had some work done to the Elven Alienage, as well as repairing any damage that happened from the previous battle of the Blight. In a whole, King Alistair was already in the record books as one of the most generous kings of their history, but that was ignoring the less gravitational tragedies underneath.

Like, the death of the Hero of Fereldan. That took a toll on the nation. It shook many paranoid politicians, among all races, to think that someone as powerful and influential as her had been taken down.

The random dragon attack, not so brutal a blow, but still suspicious and disconcerting.

And finally, more personally, there was the death of Lady Kina. There was no denying that the people of Fereldan loved their Queen. She was quiet, if anything in court and silently knitting silks. She was shy to the people, always speaking softly and calmly. She used to visit the Chantry and the orphanage regularly and could be found playing with children or teasing her husband anywhere. They remember her full, girlish laugh fondly. They recall her favorite, emerald green dressings with the golden drapes of jewelery with much grief. Kina was a gem inside the court to watch and they ached to see her face with her heartfelt, round cheeked smile.

Teagan remembered Alistair confessing once that she was a extraordinary Queen. He also remembered Alistair mentioning that she was a understanding woman, who deserved to be lavished with gifts, at every waking moment.

The red-haired, slight built man thought of those things while leaving court. He strut through the empty, echoing halls, waving away any stray or stationary servants and guards. His face was smooth and he had to keep reminding himself that Alistair was going through a hard time and he could not afford to be too harsh on him. But he could not keep doing this. The king could not afford leaving people with no punishments or there could be arising problems they do not want. And, quite frankly, he was tired of Alistair dumping extra work onto his back.

"Hold, the king wishes to be alone," says a man, in heavy armor, palm held forward.

There was another guard at this one's side, standing before the door of Alistair's private chambers. Teagan looks them over, and shakes his head. "I must talk to the king."

The smaller guard shifts his weight. "The king wishes to be alone. We must follow orders."

"Well I am his second, you must listen to me as well. Now, step aside!"

There was a moment of hesitation, then finally the guards move and Teagan sweeps through the door, with a new indignation in his chest sparking. When he walks through the doors, the slam closed at his back, the room is dark, lit only by two or three scattered candles. There is no window and in the corner he makes out the shape of Alistair, bare of his armor or noble-clothes, but instead, bare-chested with a pair of worn looking pants hanging low on his hips.

His bare back was to Teagan, looking tan and warm by the torch hanging on the wall a few feet away. Irritatedly Teagan took in the messy state of the room. The expansive bed's blankets slept on and thrown around untidily. Clothes, dirty rags, and pieces of armor, strewn along the carpet. The desk covered by scattered papers and bags of garbage kicked to the corner. The only thing that looked tended to was the fireplace that crackled with heat, making the room stuffy.

_Good Maker! _Teagan thinks, walking further in. _When was the last time he let a made in here?_

"What do you want, Teagan?" Alistair whispers, his voice caressingly soft.

Teagan knew he hadn't kept it that way for him personally. "I want to talk to you about today."

"What is there to talk about?"

Teagan paces closer, seeing Alistair hunch over, a hand reaching down towards something. "You can't keep being so generous." He tugs at his shirt collar, feeling the overheated flush rise in his cheek due to the room's temperature. He now understood why Alistair had stripped down to nearly nothing. "And I can't keep doing _your_ work."

"No one said you had to," Alistair replies almost matter of fact.

Teagan, temper rising, snaps loudly, "Someone has to do it!"

Angrily Alistair swings around, his face contorting between tender and upset. "Keep your voice down." And then he turns away, reaching a hand down into the piece of furniture in front of him.

Teagan felt an old annoyance coming back to him. He thought personally that Alistair had his priorities off and he walks swiftly up to the king's side, shoulder to shoulder, to see those blue eyes gazing down into the crib set next to the fireplace. A hand gently stroking the face of a sleeping infant.

"Why don't you let the milkmaids watch him Alistair?" Teagan presses. It was hard to pry Alistair from the palace, let alone the very edge of the child's crib. "It _is_ their job."

Alistair retracts the hand and glares up at his companion. "I would never leave him in the hands of a stranger."

"It's going to happen one day."

Alistair shakes his head. "Not if I can help it."

Teagan lets out a long sigh. Ever since the birth of the child Alistair has been startlingly overprotective. He knew it may have something to do with the similarities the child had to himself. Staring from the fact that, during it's birth, the mother died. Kina being lost in childbirth had been not only shocking, but as from what Teagan heard, extremely bloody. The son was healthy though and while no one but Teagan knew, he was also a bastard child.

But that was a whole different story and he was angry at something else, not that. "No one is going to take him away. He's not going to endure the Chantry and be trained to be a Templar like you, I promise, but if you keep this up, ignoring your duties, Arl just might do it."

"I dare him to try and take my son!" Alistair roars, body going rigid with horror and desperate fear.

In response to his exclamation there is the wail of a child as it's stirred from sleep. Apologenicly Alistair looks down to the infant and picks him up. Riven with anxiety from Teagan's threat he fumbled to hold the child against his bare chest. The child was a giant, surely, with great strong limbs and a head of long, tight brown curls. His skin was blessed by it's mother's tan and possessed the rounded face of a innocent looking baby.

What seized Teagan strange was the child's eyes, that were not Kina's green, but the deepest-black eyes he'd ever seen in a face of any man. It was not Alistair's child, anyone could know that by looking, but Alistair adored the thing more than anything Teagan had seen him care for.

When Alistair began humming a song under his breath, rocking the infant, Teagan sighs. "Do not think this conversation is done with.."

Alistair didn't even grace that with a reply, just continued to clutch the child awkwardly in his arms. Strutting like when he entered, Teagan departed from the room, and the instant his presence was gone, Alistair stops his meanderings, to glance over his shoulder uncertainly. Then teasingly he ducks towards the infant, whispering, "Do not worry about him, Duncan. He's just got his knickers in a twist." Then he lets out a small laugh, as the child snuggles closer to his chest. "Just wait until we tell him that he's not the God father, but I'd chosen Sten."

Amused by that thought, of brute Sten being a God father, Alistair forgot his trouble and doubts, restarting his hum and settling on the ledge of his bed's mattress. Slowly, his troubles melted completely away, even the guilt seemed to dual while he sat there, holding the sleeping child. And that is all he could hope for, because he knows that.. as much as he prayed for it not to be, that Tera wasn't coming home and Kina, a good friend and companion to him, was just as unreachable.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_A little different, I know. Yes, **Alistair named the son after Duncan, the Grey Warden who he thought as his father figure and who he believes saved him from a life of being a Templar**. Who's the father of the kid? Well you just have to keep reading, huh? And I did this chapter because.. well, I don't think you guys were giving my darling Alistair enough credit. You act as though he left her to live life of luxury. Psh! Well now I hope you will stop thinking he ditched Tera. And well.. this complicates things, and I didn't think I wanted to reveal this peice of the plot yet (because honestly, who expected this?) but I have more things that are going to unfold and shock you so I did it. Next chapter will be normal. Thanks for reading, **sorry for typos**, please PLEASE review! -Taryn(:_


	18. Important Read

I know this is gonna piss a lot of you off, because this isn't a real update. I'm sorry to disappoint you and break the rules. I just wanted to let you know some things:

1. I am not giving up on this story.

2. I've been thinking a lot about it and...well it's really difficult to understand HALF a story, isn't it? I want to write the Origin story, like I mentioned before.

3. I don't want to bore you and give you a extremely unoriginal, overly used repeat of the Origin's plot (like so many other Origin stories) so I wanted to make it super original and help keep you reading, and, for my efforts sake, revewing.

4. I feel I can't finish this story unless I write the Origin story, whether or not you want that Origin story to begin with. So either way, I'm writing it so I can finish this story.

5. To make it original it's going to revolve around...not just the video games plot or Tera. But Alistair as well. More Tera and Alistair, their love story. It's got plenty of action though, for male readers not completely sold on cheesy 'fate' romances. Plus it'll give you a lot more insight on Alistiar, his early life, etc...

6. I'll be posting it on my profile, and I hope to at least get a bit of feedback on it in the next week or else I'll take it down. It'll be titled, cheesily, "Falling Into Fate"

7. Sorry, again, please I hope you're still enjoying my story! And you like the new one, hopefully.

(I'll take this down in a few days!) Thanks -Taryn(:


	19. Finally Enough

_**Chapter 19- "Finally Enough" **_

_**(WAY Future; starts off right after 'Letting Go' chapter) **_

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><p>I sat on the ledge of the ship with my back purposely facing Kirkwall as it drifts away, becoming nothing more than a streak of gray and brown in the horizon.<p>

No. It's not drifting away. _I am._

I hunch over and clutch a dirty, worn blanket around my shoulders. Loaned to me from the ship captain out of pity, when he saw me trembling and sobbing. The crew works around me and all they are to me is a bunch of people bustling about, shouting in the rain. Thunder cracks overhead, I flinch, and throw back my head with a gasp for air. _Had I been holding my breath? _Flashes of blinding white light scatters across the dark gray sky overhead.

My flesh still tingles from Fenris' touch.

His words rack through my thoughts like a seeping poison that I am not immune to. His voice makes my nerves squirm and my stomach tightens with guilt. Shame sends a flush of scarlet across my skin, and it crawls down my shoulders, searing into my skin all the way to the tips of my ears. It helps me numb out the iciness of the weather.

Fenris, the brooding elf that he was, had a stronger and warmer heart than I'll ever possess.

Mine is full of secrets. Of my endless lies and falseness. Mine is quick to flee when times are rough. Mine can forget friends, drop the warmth of love and rip itself away from others who care without hesitation.

_His_, pauses to think about others that he has hated. People he despised because of a past, made entirely of torment. But he knew my heart had loved them. Those people he paused for. He put himself out there, he said 'I love you' and I ran for fear of myself. I didn't think about how it hurt him. I was nothing but selfishness.

I tried to clear my thoughts and focus on the adventure of Orlais ahead of me, but it is too hard to fight against the bitter wind biting into my skin. I screw my eyes shut, the tears still falling. It seems like I had an endless amount to supply. When would I ever be done with my pity party?

Not everything hurt. Emotionally, I mean. Some of the things he said, I could squash, which is a immense relief. But then I remembered certain words Fenris' uttered: "No, they won't."

I've always thought my friends would be fine without me. I always thought they were better off, without the woman who tore them down with her snake-like tongue. But I was wrong. Fenris was right, I couldn't just leave them without consequence.

Where was _he_ when I left Denerim? When I left all my other good, deserving friends to themselves?

Where were _they _now?

Dead?

The thought makes me feel ill.

Starving? Begging on street corners?

Struggling with poverty in a failing economy? Just like Bodahan and Sandal had so many years ago?

_But the economy was better now_, I tell myself and I force open my eyes. _The economy was fixed and they wouldn't die of starvation, they were all too smart to let something a trivial as hunger take them out. _

But Zevran! Where was Zevran? Did he get sucked back into the system? Was he forced, again, into the business of slitting throats? I told him I'd watch his back. I told him I'd make sure that his old bosses never touched him.

And I left him there. Alone and without warning. I broke a promise. I didn't even think about him when I left. I just thought of myself. He could be dead now, for all I know. He could be unhappy, killing royalty and slowly being turned into a criminal, until he is so far gone, that he will be flogged to death by law enforcement before anyone could invoke the fact that he helped the Hero of Fereldan.

What about Leliana? She was my best friend. She _had _been my best friend. Leliana was the one girl I turned to on our travel across Fereldan. Morrigan was too sour, Wayne was too vague. Leliana was a laugh and her accent adorable. Her pretty face always smiling. She made me feel better and warded off the burden of my future, when Alistair wasn't there to do it himself.

She was there even in the end, putting up with me. It was through her that I figured out about the court cases against me. But I just left...and where was she now? Is she married and happy? Is she in Orlais? Could I hope to see her shopping for shoes out in the market? Or has that past of hers snuck up on her? Is she out there, a dead voiced woman that was only a skilled set of fingers on a blade? Only meant to do others' bidding's?

Has Sten truly moved passed the crime he committed all those years ago? When the desperate fear of losing the ever important blade sent him into a frenzy of panic that took a whole family's life? Is he still accepted among his religion? Does he still hold that blade I fought to get back to him?

A crew man staggers into me as I sit, and I jump, yelping. My thoughts shatter, scattering around me as if I am but a child who can not hold a thing within my mind. All concepts were lost in the puddles of sea water battering into the vessels side. My heart is hammering in moments. I know that this is doing me no good, thinking of my friend, but my thoughts continue to remember about all those I have left.

Oghren. I was Oghren's family. He lost his wife to the madness of dwarfish goods and ancient magic. He lost her and he went to the surface with me. I took him with me, and I told him he could join me, trust me. And I left him in that palace all alone. Sure, he was dreadful, but what kind of cold hearted bitch _does _that?

Tera. _Tera Amell_. Apparently it is her specialty.

I left Shale and Wayne as well. They didn't _need _me. But Wayne had been close to my heart. I've known her since childhood. She raised me, taught me. Was she dead now? Died of old age? Alone... and without me there at her bedside as I should have been! She offered her _life_ for me once!

How could I? I was like her daughter. I remember the day her son was taken from the tower. I remember the exact pitch of her screams when she protested. I can recall hiding behind the bookshelves, listening to the drama, with Jowan pressed against my shoulder.

Something in my heart dropped, and it was only because of Jowan. He had his own special kind of hurt inside of me. Childhood friend. The boy who tugged on my pigtails. He who saved me from bully Templars in our early teens.

I push him from my mind before I'm entirely lost in the past. Instead I think of someone I've not thought of in years. Someone who has been purposely left out. Yet, impossibly, it could have been the most painful of all.

_Morrigan_.

Everyone else thought I was dead. Alistair would have a heart attack seeing my face again, if I were to show it here in Kirkwall. Everyone back in Fereldan thought me gone, unreachable. Sometimes it upset me to know it. It made things seem more final. And Maybe the news got back to Morrigan. Maybe she thought I was dead. But all I could think of is that last, painful time I saw her.

It was when I chased her, even after I told her I wouldn't. A week had not even past after the day I said so, after I slain the Archdemon, and in turn she saved my life. The exact same time after I had her sleep with the man I loved. Sure, I made him do it, but he did it willing just to keep me breathing. In the end though, the child concerned me. I worried for Morrigan and about her living out on her own at that point in time. I questioned her ability to handle the dangers and pregnancy all in one.

Now that I know Flemeth lives and thrives, it has increased my fear.

_But that last moment!_

Those soft, watery gray eyes of her boring straight into mine. That last lingering touch of her fingertips on my forearm. The gentle words she said to me. _"Take care of yourself Tera, something is coming. Something you will have to brace yourself for." _

There was none of her sourness in that moment. It looked as if all of it had been beaten out of her. Something like the way a tamed animal looked after an owners beaten it's spirit out of it. I wanted to embrace the young woman who saw me through the worst parts of my life. There was a friendship with us, no matter how much she annoyed me. No matter how much her and Alistair fought.

I was afraid to admit this, but as I drew in a painful breath of rain and wind, at this very moment, I knew I missed her.

I missed them all. Seven long years have gone by and no words were passed. The chance was swiped away when I turned up to be only a charred corpse withing their thoughts. There was no doubt in my being that I regretted running away now. The sorrow was like a physical sickness inside of myself. In my chest it was hallow and achingly dry. My companions, they held little pieces of me, and those little pieces were left behind with the people I once loved. Little pieces of laughter, when we would endure Alistair's awful cooking, flinging the chunks in it about the fireplace. Little pieces of shared smiles when Oghren used the wrong leaf to wipe. When Shale accidentally tosses a dead bird over his shoulder and hit Morrigan's face.

There were even moments when in battle. Even at the worst of times, and we are surround by Darkspawn. It was a mere arm thrust from my companions that fended a blow from the right. Or the bump of another's hip to spare you a limb. The feeling of warmth when you fight back to back, shoulders pressed so close together it is as if you turn and fight as one being.

All these little pieces left behind. Remaining with those I've once loved. I've abandoned those parts of myself and it's back in Fereldan where they rot. Not even there to nurture in the minds of my loved ones. As it is to them, I am but dead and forgotten, seven years past.

I felt a constant surge of despair, but sometimes I'll shift and it'll become unfeeling. I'm metal. Nothing. There is no heart that twists, no throat that thickens. I'm just a Grey Warden. One small woman drifting idly throughout Thedas.

It only last for a few minutes, then I'm taken over again with emotions.

This was one of those moments. Everything I felt was magnified a hundredfold. My thoughts reeled through those memories, those little pieces, I left behind and all I could think was...that I am about to do it again...

I am going to leave behind more people I loved. I was being selfish for the second time in my life. I have let something scare me away. My heart leaps away as if it is burned. I am frightened by the mere beat of a butterflies wing's. By sweet, awkward Alistair. Was I really scared of him? Did I truly love him anymore? How could I? I hardly knew him any longer. Those memories of us in my mind have drifted so far that I can not even find his face as clearly as the others.

I'm not scared of Alistair.

_What was I scared of? _

An indistinguishable, tiny voice in my mind replied back to that question.

_This. _

This pain. This remembering of what I've lost. The unavoidable crippling emotions. In Denerim it had been Alistair that caused me to flee. The depression of seeing him marry was too much. It had been my crushed, girlish dreams of a wedding. And now, this pain I feel, it is my fault in the first place. I lost them at all because I ran.

This is exactly what I hate. The agony of losing what could have been.

So what am I _doing_?

I'm running again! This is going to be the second biggest mistake of my life!

I jump to my feet suddenly. I am snapped out of my trance. My eyes go wide, I take in the whirling of the crew. They are like dancing figures of blue uniform, moving this way and that. It's stifling how hard it is to find my sea legs, and as I attempt it, the sopping blanket slips off my shoulder and onto the deck. The swishing figures of the crew swerve around me, and are completely unconcerned about the strange woman on board.

I have to go back. I have to tell the truth...or I'll never know.

I'll never know.. if Tera Amell could be loved by them, also.

Fenris was right. _He always is_. I could try. I have to try. I have to at least attempt to hold on. I have to do everything in my power to hold onto the only things that matter most in life; love, family, kinship. Without those things there is only meaninglessness. You can't fight to live for nothing. I can not run from _nothing_.

Numbly, my flesh stinging, I take two steps backwards. My feet are bare because I ran out of the clinic so franticly. So frightened. But I'm not scared anymore. I can do this. I have to try and do this. I have to show them the true me.

Tera wasn't–_isn't_–a coward. She killed the Archdemon. She commanded armors, and she is a Grey Warden. She is the_ Hero of Fereldan, _for Maker's sake.

Ceala is brave. She saved the city of Kirkwall from the Qunari. She found love in a man who was broken and on the brink of losing himself in a past of slavery. She _never_ gave up.

They were the same woman. _I'm_ that woman!

I am both Tera and Ceala. How could I be cowardly?

I can do this. I can try.

My arms open to the wind, and I step up to the back edge of the ship, embracing the sea's salty spray as if it did not sear in my eyes or whip against my skin like grating metal. Despite the burn my lungs draw in every amount of air they can. I open my eyes to stare out at the blur of gray that was land. So far. Yet, I am so determined to reach it.

If this kills me then I know I died trying.

Just like that, with the slight tilt of my feet, I throw myself into the mercy of crashing waves.

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><p><strong><em>AN: _**Ugh I lied, okay. Too many complaints about not updating this story. But you know what! If I don't get at least, like ten reviews or long reviews that are at a amount less than that, I promise that I probably won't. The next chapter I MIGHT write will be her meeting Fenris. Are you braced for this? (It's a lot different from the video game) Anyway, thanks for reading. I'm really honored at the amount of people who are and the age of them! I mean, I'm 15. I didn't expect anyone older than 12-17 to like my work, or to find interest. I really appreciate it. Sorry for typos, please review. -Taryn(:


	20. Poisoned Brother

_**Chapter 19- "Poisoned Brother" **_

_**(Future; fairly close)**_

I couldn't sleep. It was my first night back from the Deep Roads. Exhaustion weighs down my every limb and despite that I can't even bare to sleep. All the resurfaced horrors of the expedition have yet to be dealt with. The sun was long gone when Varric left me on the footsteps of my Uncle's slum house.

I made it two feet into the door before Leandra had my throat.

Candles ring the perimeter of the room we're in, their light burning through the night. I sit at the window eyes trained on the darkness beyond, hugging my knees in my arms, and making myself as small as possible. The wait is painstaking. I hate it here. _Hate it. _Even looking away from the window gives my spine a violent shiver.

_No, _I think. _You have to. You promised. _

At the edges of sleep, I see them. Corrupted. Hallow-eyed. Slipping under a blade with strangled screams. I dig my fingernails into my palm to stay awake. Leandra paces past me. She avoids looking at me, but her silence speaks for her.

_You left him here, Tera. Alone, with crushed spirit. _

Doesn't matter that she asked me to. No one cares that it was she who begged me to leave him behind. I want to shout at her. Tell her that when I left Carver out of the expedition I left him in her care. But I don't think I have the strength. I didn't even have the strength to refuse her when she demanded we go to the Circle and visit him. She thinks I'm capable of getting him back. To change what has already been decided.

"Just one more moment," says the Templar at the door. He had sent word nearly twenty minutes ago for someone to fetch Carver, from the Templar chambers. It's obvious they have to convince him to come down. He doesn't want to see me.

Pale faces, great dark circles beneath their eyes. _Awake. _Stay awake.

My eyelids flutter, trying to close, giving into the bliss of sleep. I have to force them open. Too many nightmares await me. So many faces of Darkspawn eagerly expecting my vulnerable state. Readying to haunt me.

My pulse quickens.

"I told you it was late." My voice is too weak to hold much venom. "We've probably awoken half the Circle."

"Good to see you've some consideration in your body for others," she replies coolly. "Just not the right ones."

I throw my fists up. "How was I suppose to know he'd do this? You think I like it? The thought of him..." I falter, not able to finish under the prying eyes of the Templar. I stare at him. His dark shifty eyes shrewdly stare back. I have to whip back around, stare out the window. Pray that the irrational fear of being locked away again won't be fulfilled.

"There is obviously a reason for his new ambition. You know how I feel about magic. Do you think I like that he's become what he is? That he's being what I resent?"

I know it's not fair. I know she's just scared of losing her last child. I know it's terrifying to her to find that her son is becoming a Templar, those things mages seem to fear so much. The people that her husband, Carver's father, had always ran from.

I'm so beaten. Bruises line up my torso. I prob a new one, forming on the back of my wrist. An old, half healed slice rings my shoulder blade. I would heal them, drink a potion, if I were not here. In this suffocating place.

The clearing of someone's throat draws my eyes up. Carver stand in the doorway, his fellow Templars wading out into the hall. The door closes softly and slowly, like I'm approaching a wounded animal I rise. Leandra flings herself at her sun, hugging him and tears rimming her eyes.

He smiles tightly at me. I return the smile, until it splits open my bottom lip and all I can taste is blood.

"You're back then," Carver says, pulling his mother aside. He has not even looked her in the face yet, and I draw in a fast breath, but it feels as though it leaves the second it enters. Like water slipping between my fingers, I'm at a loss for words.

"Should you like that very much?"

"I can not say that the Circle would like it." I stiffen. He can't. He won't. Would he? I know he sees my eyes flit around the room for points of exit. Should he claim me an apostate here, loud enough, the door will be barged down and what little privacy these Templars have given us will be shattered as they arrest me on the spot.

I don't have enough magic left in me to lie, to manipulate. I merely shake my head.

"Was it worth it? The trip. Did you bring back anything of worth?"

I shrug, but it brings a wince past my lips. "Enough money for a lifetime, maybe two." Leandra's glare bores holes straight through me. I was brought here for persuasion, not to brag. I lift my eyes back to Carver's. "But none of it matters, it is not as wealthful to me as family. Please, come home. Don't do this."

"Do you remember what I told you?" Carver replies curtly. He's unfazed by my vulnerability. Doesn't care. "I need my own life. My own path. I can't be the blubbering fool, following everyone else for the rest of my life. You took away my chance at the expedition, and now I have done this."

"Why?" My voice cracks, my eyes seek out his and for the first time I see a flicker of true emotion in their depths. "You know I didn't want to leave you, I did it for your protection. There are things that happened...Varric's brother–"

"I don't care," Carver cuts my confession. "You still left me. You knew how much that expedition mattered to me. But you're just weak."

"_Weak_?"

"It's the first thing they teach us here. Mages are weak. That's why the demons stalk them, it's why they can't be trusted."

Oh, he can't be serious. "And I suppose you've already taken an unhealthy liking to lithium?"

Carver steps forward, an intent to hurt contorting his face, and Leandra places her hand into his chest, saving me from the fight. I've already flinched though. My cheeks sear with equal parts angry and ashamed. I let him see I was scared. And I had been. I don't have my staff on me, and I can't defend myself without giving away my freedom.

"Mages like you shouldn't exist," he spits savagely. "Look how big your head has grown! You think you can handle anything don't you? Think you've grown superior. That's probably why no one wanted you as Queen in Fereldan, thought it'd give you too much power."

I'm stung into shouting. "You have no idea why the wouldn't let me! _That is not your place_!"

Painful memories swirl to the surface from his words. My lost beliefs in magic, my hatred towards my poisoned blood, making my stomach jerk. The pictures of Darkspawn are now mixed with the pieces of Alistair's and the Arl's face.

And in my heart I get a cold, dark sinking feeling. _They've already poisoned him._ _He's no longer Carver, not the old one. _

He's still fuming and Leandra is lecturing him. Something about family and such. There is no reason for me to be here anymore. I don't want to be here. He doesn't want me here. There are no words for me to say. Nothing I can offer that'll bring him back to me.

I flee the room as quickly as my stumbling feet can carry me. The Templars outside are shoved aside, and I'm speeding passed doors, stone walls. The carpet flying beneath my feet until I've freed myself from the Circle's walls and I'm outside, choking down cold air.

I want to run home, but my body aches and refuses the request. I'm practically going the same rate as a snail on my descent through the Gallows. When I reach the boat, the man looks up at me, with gleaming yellow eyes and for a minute, he blurs, and I'm staring into the snarling face of a Hurlock.

Sitting the boat, I hug my arms around myself. I see a shadow leaving the Circle's front doors and I know Leandra was hoping to catch up. I tell the man to move faster.

On the opposite shore, I waste no time climbing into the streets, where the shadows cling to my face and hide my weakness. No one's out at this hour. It's so silent that the sound of my footsteps seem obnoxious.

I'm lying, not wrong. There are people out. Because while on my trek down the streets, I can feel him watching me from the shadows. I will him to see my bruised jaw, and the exhaustion in my eyes. Pray that he will notice I'm not strong enough to speak with him at this very moment. I have talked to enough people this evening and all I want to do is reacquaint myself with my pillow.

When I turn on the streets of Low Town, he's there, waiting. His white hair simmering silver in the moonlight. I stop my pace immediately, a yard of distance between us. We're hardly friends, I remember. He hates what I am, and though I agree with his loathing, I know that telling him would be hopeless.

Yet, here he stands. Eyes intent on my face, but so emotionless and hard. It's as if he doesn't really see me.

"Varric told me you were back," he says. It's simple and direct, with no nonsense. Fenris is nothing but straight forward. I appreciate that quality more than I should.

"I am," I say, haltingly, exasperated at the dwarf who must have went straight to the bar, where no doubt the elf lingered, and shared enthusiastically the tales of our woe. "I suppose you want to yell at me now, too. For leaving you here. Seems like I promised a lot of people they could come and then I failed to follow through."

"I've always known mages aren't very trustworthy." Goody, him and Carver are on the same page then. "And being left behind doesn't offend me. I'm not interested in any sort of riches or fighting experience like those other companions of yours."

"Than _what_ do you want?" I say, a slight plea slipping into my tone. My knees are buckling underneath me and I dearly wish to curl up in a nearby alley, and just sleep there. It's not that awful of an idea, really.

"I didn't want to go, on the trip, but we had deal, if I recall it correctly."

I nod, feeling woozy. Fenris is silent and waiting no doubt. Finally, I have nothing to do but answer, "I told you if you came with me to the expedition that I would hunt down your old owner, Darius. And then I left you behind, okay? I know what I did. Is that what you want me to say? That I've broken a deal? That I've not even given you a chance to fulfill your end when I replaced you for Anders?"

His passive stare unnerves me. He's so serious. Then he gives a slight nod. "I wanted to know if...you were going to uphold your end? If it were possible to make a new deal." He pauses, seeming to decide something. "I could go after him alone. I don't particularly want a mages help, but it seems your magic would be a distinctive advantage I'd gain, if you were on my side, against him."

"Are you sure you really want me, an apostate, on your side though?"

"You are not quite a normal apostate," is his immediate reply.

How is he so awake? So clear headed at this hour?

For some reason I find that I don't care, about all this. The reason I left him behind was not even about him. I hadn't even thought of him or the deal in the moment, but instead it had everything to do with Anders. An internal groan inside my chest draws my thoughts away from that. Now, wasn't really the time to think of it.

"Yes," I say. "Not to the deal, but to upholding my end. There's no point in a new deal." _I'm always helping others do their bidding. _"Is that all?"

Silence, again. Than, he gives me a sharp look, like he's actually just noticed my face and my obvious fatigue for the first time. "You've got dirt on your face."

I swipe haphazardly at my cheeks with the back of my hand. He shakes his head to let me know that I haven't removed it. "Where?" I ask.

"Here." It's only his thumb brushing slowly across the lower edge of my lip, but it's shocking, and my insides coil. The sweep of his finger on my face seems to last forever, when really it's but a few seconds. It is no spell I know, slowing time like that, but it hold such magic that I can scarcely breathe.

He pulls away his hand fast. As if he's just realized he's been touching me, or has even moved a limb. I'm so tired I'm not even sure I'd know if he's done anything or if I'm lost in some distant and forgotten memory that has come back to haunt me in my dreams.

"I should be getting back now."

"It's late," I agree.

He turns to go and I move towards the slums. By the time I reach the door, and I've moved through the front room, the fire across the way calls to me, drawing at my strength. I fall victim to it on my knees, and I soak in everything the crackling flames have to offer.

Vaguely I hear the door slamming some time later, Leandra's voice filling the tiny house. But all I can see, behind closed eyelids, is a grueling battle field. Blood spattering my hands. Shrieks and Hurlocks ravishing the underground lands, their deformed skulls and faces flashing at me in odd patterns. I see other things. Missed chances, lost hopes. Out of the corner of my eye, taunting me, and then they're gone.

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN: _**_I know I said that it'd be her meeting Fenris, but this one was more compelling for me to write at the moment. I promise more them time! I want to show you how their relationship developes also, how it ends up changing him and her a little. As some of you pointed out he was a bit OCC-ish in the other chapter. Also to those who wondered why I have so many mistakes it's rather simple. I'M LAZY, gosh dang it. I have played the Game over a billion times all the way through, for both and with many, many add ons. So yeah, really I'm just lazy and the name mess ups are actually just my worddocument not liking the names, and I'm too lazy to correct what they corrected of me. So yeah, thanks for reading, sorry for typos, please review! -Taryn(:_


	21. Surprise, Surprise

A/N: Hello. I know. This isn't an update and I'm a loser. But I've rewritten this story, for the length of about four chapters. (Trust me, things are different.) I was hoping this note would send you over to the newly posted story, since I figured deleting any of this one would be upsetting to some of you. (Word of advice, skip the prologue probably, since it's too much like this one.) Otherwise what you read will seem different. I hope you give it a chance. Thank you so much if you're still following this story! All your reviews and follows and favorites.. they are so kind and I appreciate every one. Thank you, again. -Taryn


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